


Intersection 8/11

by InsoulMe



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Bondage, Dom/sub Undertones, Dreams and Premonitions, Explicit Sex, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mentions of Consent Play, Mentions of Racism, Non-Linear Narrative, Power Dynamics, asian diaspora, brief johnyu and johndo, era:neocity to superm tour, era:trainee days, implied mark/others - Freeform, implied past johnten, intimidating johnny, johnten bffs, kpop industry, lumark if you squint - Freeform, non-au, rated E for ch3, religious symbolism and humour, scorpio mars mark lee, yt cmnt: johnny is the dom of nct
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 42,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25880992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsoulMe/pseuds/InsoulMe
Summary: "Now, let's go back a little," Johnny swiftly unbuckles his belt and Mark flinches away from the rattling noise of it, his expression still pervaded with disbelief at precisely getting what he was pushing for just a hot minute ago, “do you want to say that to me again?""Repeat it for me, go on."
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 36
Kudos: 82





	1. Fall: Venus In Virgo

**Author's Note:**

> • so a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2SA4ap3FiZt9pn54kxrDpN?si=u0RMfOHzQrC7J72qjBR9gg) yes
> 
> •not betaed and I'm actually sick of editing this. this was supposed to be 4-6K johnten backstory meant as prequel to two other present time and angsty post disbandment fic I was writing. Instead it kept going and going and ended up as a 50k pointless johnmark thing cause they live in my mind rent free now.

Before Mark's twentieth birthday, they kind of celebrated it in private.

The thing is that no one actually calls it a celebration just for Mark, because with his record, he is likely to get embarrassed and end up feeling cornered instead of enjoying himself. But everyone knows what it is without calling it such, and Mark lets loose, to the point that he gets shit drunk and throws himself in every lap in sight for as many hugs and cuddles as possible. 

Johnny believes it to be his way of satisfying the need of a touch starved brain, a lot of it all at once and usually in an inebriated state so that the next day he can pretend he doesn't remember any of it, and then he can go on without it for a while, letting the itch to just cling and hold on to people build up all over again.   
  
Hours later, when the guys start bowing out to get some sleep, Mark stumbles his way towards the balcony and doesn't come back. He helps Taeil carry a passed out Haechan to his room and then follows Mark, slipping out after making sure he is not needed. There's only Jaehyun and Doyoung still perched on the couch, talking in hushed whispers, heads bent closer and Johnny doesn't think they will miss him. 

He isn't in the mood to talk, and he doesn't need to because Mark does enough of it for both of them. He's dragged down on the floor with excessive force and he topples over the smaller frame beside him, almost squishing the younger one. 

Mark laughs, the way drunk people do, uncontrollable and too loud, grabby hands and heavy head on the nearest hard surface, which happens to be Johnny's shoulder in this case. 

"What were you doing here, dude?"

That's enough encouragement, he thinks and then he just waits. And as always, Mark doesn't disappoint. He starts, stringing slurred words together, nonsensical at first but when you take a closer look, there's a meaning behind it.

"I was thinking, um, you wanna know? yooo, I was reading..." 

Johnny doesn't remember all of it later, when he thinks back on it. But he retains enough of it, the gist of the rambling and random facts, personal thoughts and the lack of any real conclusion. 

Mark was watching the sky. The moon and the stars. The stars, millions, billions of light-years away and we are still seeing them, but are we, Johnny? We are seeing them from the past. Or we are watching their past. Not them in present. Maybe they don't even exist anymore, exploding into dust. _And hyung, did you know?_ We are all made from dead stars, we are all just stardust. 

  
-•-

He decides to drive them to the cafe himself, shaking his head at his manager discreetly when he turns to looks at him from over the head of the other two putting on their shoes, chattering about this new place they have been hearing a lot about lately. 

"New place to celebrate new year baby." Ten crows, huge grin still plastered on his face, not quite ready to disappear since the moment he saw them today, lighting up when his gaze fell on them huddled together with Mark's notebook, overflowing with lyrics and ideas in progression.

He had snatched it right away, placing it on the table and diving in between them for some long overdue cuddles, pulling them both in his arms tightly.

“My babies,” he sighed dramatically. “I haven’t seen you both since forever.”

“Uh, we like saw each other two days ago?” Mark said, wheezing, “Hyung, yo I can’t breathe let go.”

-•-

Now they are about to go out, the three of them, just the way they used to. Past tense. Because it is history now, and they are going out to reminisce the past that they all share. A connection that was forged, regardless of where they will be and how they will remember it years from now.

How they remember it, even now. 

So now, Johnny might be regretting coming up with this idea. 

He wonders sometimes; when they are together like this and don't precisely fit how they used to, when the space in which they stand together not appearing as it was once upon a time; if it feels different for all of them now, if each of them look back on what used to be and see things in their own separate perspectives. 

"It's normal," Taeyong comforted him, when Johnny mentions it to him in the kitchen one morning, a few weeks before he and Mark have to leave to debut one more time. 

"I mean, it's not the first time, right? We have all seen each other change a lot throughout the years already." He said, a haunted sheen in his eyes that Johnny wished he could erase, but in the end, they all had to carry their own scars and live with it. 

He had chuckled then, pulling himself out of the dark abyss, grinning at him, small and genuine. "You have changed the most, right? You know, when you came back and later too, we used to joke that Youngho and Johnny are so different." 

"That is true for all of us though." he pointed out, suddenly ready to drop the conversation.

Taeyong shook his head, as he plated the omelet, "I'm not talking about the stage persona," he smiled at Johnny.

"I wonder, who are you now?" Taeyong glanced away, suddenly timid now that he had nothing to do. 

"Both." Johnny had assured, voice soft and sleepy still. He patted the other man's waist, yanking him down to sit with him. 

But he wasn't actually that sure himself. He started living that double life quite early once he got accepted in SM. It was two parallel worlds, from Northbrook to the company building. He stubbornly kept his foot lodged in both, not ready to let go of either, and yet he went extra miles to keep these two worlds from colliding either. 

He learned how to be a celebrity, an idol in the practice rooms of South Korea's most famous entertainment company but he grew up to be the person that he is, and had his lessons in dealing with life and people in the typical American public schools. 

Taeyong was quite correct in his assessment, that he in fact did change a lot every year he came back to continue his training and firmly shut down any discourse that lead to him quitting his studies back in Northbrook just to finish his training quicker and debut, at least till his final year when he gave in, for a very short time period before he came back to his senses. 

That also meant that things were never how he left them, whenever he would return. He joins in when TVXQ is the craze of the fangirls and gets to analyze the first group that started becoming a huge deal outside of Korea closely.

Super Junior are the newly debuted stars, he catches them in passing the most. He sits in to watch their practice with other new trainees sometimes. Most importantly, he misses his parents, and tends to cry to his absolute mortification. But he has Sehun at least, to make him realize it's normal. Sehun cries a lot too, and his parents aren't living all the way across the sea. That strangely comforts him more than anything else. 

He leaves along with summer, goes back home and studies, focuses on scoring well. He was always fairly well liked, but his circle of friends expands once he joins the choir, starts singing with the acapella group at events and he confidently tells anyone who is curious about what he has been up to in Korea that he is in fact a model in training. He holds their gazes while he kind of lies, and from there onwards he learns how to say things with a straight face even if they aren't exactly true. 

He's not sure how many of his friends and acquaintances believe him, but he definitely starts getting more dates and phone numbers stuffed in his locker. 

When he is back in the practice rooms, a new group debuts. The youngest member is only two years older than him and he is the best friend of Sehun's best friend, or that’s what he was told. 

“We can have more than one person we care about.” Sehun said to him one day out of nowhere. 

Johnny nods sagely in agreement, because isn't that a well known fact? Sehun takes it as him being patronizing instead. 

“I’m very serious, this is not a joke.” Sehun's face was set in his usual frown that makes him appear as if he is furious at the world. It's hard not to take him seriously even when he is joking. But that’s just his face. Johnny gets the struggle, being told that he needs to work on his own facial expressions quite early on. Apparently his neutral face says he's plotting a homicide. 

“Look it’s the giant monster, I'm shaking.” An older trainee sneered, making everyone laugh. Johnny shut the door of the practice room harshly, dropping his bag near the wall mirror. “He will get us all in sleep, I'm telling you. 

He twisted around, gathering his long hair to tie it all up. The heat is unbearable this summer. 

Johnny is taller again, and also gaining more confidence in his ability to do everything. He is not the best, but he gives his best. The male trainees don't see a cute, dazed kid when their eyes take him in, and some of them have not been dealing with it gracefully. 

“Sleep with your eyes open.” Johnny says casually, “If you close your eyes and wake up to me standing by your bed, well.” He clucks his teeth with a headshake. 

-•-

That trainee leaves the company before Johnny goes back to attend a new school year, and he starts getting weirded out looks thrown his way, queasy glances exchanged when he comes around. 

Johnny can’t do anything but roll his eyes. 

-•-

He doesn't cry anymore. A few trainees indicate how he could be debuting in the next group. Johnny doesn't agree necessarily, not because he is humble but simply due to the fact that he isn't ready. 

He becomes quite close to the female trainees he met last summer and they have even more friends this time around who all find him adorable. He can easily tell which ones think that in a very brotherly, platonic way and how there are some who eye him a little differently.

Regardless of it, he treats them all warmly, keeps their interactions light and fun. He behaves with them as if they are friends from back home, minus the crass language and more physical distance implemented, it works.

He focuses on his training with the single-minded intensity that he experiences when he finds himself obsessed with something, that's what he comes here to do after all. 

By the time he is in high school; where he is easily counted as one of the fairly known guys, tall and nice, cute and has a nice smile, is what he gets the most; he is also one of the most popular trainees in SM and definitely the favorite amongst the female trainees, which means he gets either envied by the guys or they want to stick closer to him for obvious reasons. 

When it is time for another group to debut, Johnny's name gets thrown around a lot. There is a new wave of trainees entering the building every day. His transfer to this new school isn’t working out, things are rapidly altering and Johnny doesn’t want to be swept away in all of this without having made even a single decision for himself. So it’s important for him to watch, and observe. To plan, and work out something with the least damage done but a more favorable outcome. 

It's time for him to make a few choices then. 

-•-

After a brief experience of high school in Korea which is the standard for trainees, he puts his foot down, and insists on finishing his education in the States, as he had always imagined that he would.

He has already met Taeyong and Mark, with extremely mixed and contrasting feelings towards them. There are more young talented guys joining the roaster. He meets a quiet guy from Japan, who is the same age as him. They have Korean classes together. He is pretty.

After a while, everyone comes to realize that he was so quiet only because he didn't understand anyone well. The guy is actually very mouthy, but within boundaries. Johnny thinks that’s cute. 

Johnny is also expected to debut, be that senior the new trainees hung out with before he goes on to be an idol, juggling school work while not attending classes and an active career as a rookie in the industry. Just like a hyung he briefly met before he debuted, and then they never got the time to hang out even though he would have loved to. 

"You could debut, it's the perfect time. If you start early, you would be an established veteran in your mid-twenties." The executives reasoned with him, all of them trying to pleasantly glare him into submission.

"I would like to finish my high school education like any other American my age though; and graduate normally, even if it means I get to have a career later than my peers here in Korea." He counters, staring them all down with a measured, empty expression. He has accepted that he might become the cause of some major changes in future plans for the company. He mentally shrugs. 

Not his problem. Not yet.

A few years later, he actually gets to witness how his one decision affected many people around him. Sometimes, he is thankful. Then there are those times when he just has to live with. 

He goes back home for the last time, not knowing when he would return.

Maybe next year, because he really just ditched the only chance he had to debut and now the company is filled with too many dreams and ambitions, all passionate and driven to get what they want. But they are more docile and obedient, less likely to say no as frequently as he does, more likely to do what they are told without persistent attempts at starting negotiation to strike up a deal for their own interests.

Or maybe a decade later, because he will end up in some group that doesn't make it out of Korea and his contract wouldn't let him come back here for even a break.

There are so many possibilities. He will bee to it when it happens, but there are already building blocks of a few plans forming at that back of his head even as he throws himself into studies and the whole experience of just being a normal millennial kid, perhaps a bit better looking than most but you would never catch him saying so loudly. He hears it a lot from others as it is. 

So he lives that American high schooler life, slipping out of his grip like fine sand he can't hold on to. He loses his virginity to the girl he dated briefly, attends every party he can, drinks and smokes to his heart's content, listens to his friends grouse about part-time jobs and university hunting as if he can relate, gets high every weekend, makes out with a few boys because why the hell not, goes to the prom with a beautiful girl and eats out everyday, mostly junk food because well, who knows when he will get to savor the same taste again. It's nothing special, or better but it's familiar and he will miss it.

He doesn't tell anyone that he will be banned from doing all of these, except maybe sneakily drinking here and there, soon enough. As soon as possible, if he is lucky.

On a Sunday, he wakes up early in the morning to a horribly rough and alarming noise, as if the world is splintering apart. A few loud bangs against the window pane makes him jump, and he gets out of the bed. A hailstorm, he realizes, shuddering from the top his head to his feet, padding forward to discern the impact of it outside. 

There are uncountable glowing, spherical pieces of ice hitting the grey pavement continuously, bouncing up and hurdling away instead of shattering. He imagines standing out there in the middle of the road right now, and the thought of it leaves him with chilled bones and an odd memory to go with it. 

He thinks of the practice rooms back in Korea, of Mark standing by the windows staring out. 

There are polaroids in his bag that he never took out, though perhaps he should. 

  
-•-

  
After that, it still takes four years and he sees how there are people who have trained for just that long or even less debuting and they are doing it before him. He goes through a brief period of relentless brooding that keeps everyone on edge after that. 

Hansol quits, and he wonders if they expect it from him too. If all of this dragging and uncertainty being pushed his way is some form of punishment, or a straight up indication that the company has no idea where to fit him and what to do with him. 

He could pack his bags up, and just disappear and it actually wouldn't matter, because there are so many of them to push and shove till they eventually conform in whatever space they are allotted. Just the way the company isn't bothered that one of their older trainees bailed on them, just the way artists sue and leave but business goes on as usual. In the end, none of it matters. 

It angers him, leaving him a seething mess, but he deals with it quietly and waits. There are trainees who live with him, look up to him and he had seen them entering the company years after he did, and they are debuting before he does, some not even once but twice. He had expected it to some extent, when he chose to go back to the States, even though the company was reluctant but he had not thought it would make him this upset. 

“Are you angry because you aren’t debuting yet, or many of us are doing it without you?” Jaehyun had asked what no one else dared to.

Many, when it is more like everyone he knows and has some type of connection with. It wasn't even about being left behind, but the pride he had which was taking huge hits every time they announced a unit without him. He knew the members would get repeated, and there are chances that he will be in a unit with these people eventually, but it still left him feeling hollow. 

“I don't know. I'm just fed up, is all. But don't worry, I won't quit. If they want me to hang off their necks for ten more years I'll do it.” Johnny got up, ready to leave the practice room, trying not to feel like the odd one out. There wasn't one person in the room that hadn't debuted at least once, twice or was about to debut for the third time very soon. Except him. “Either they debut me or their necks break.” 

“Youngho—” Taeyong called out when he started stomping out hurriedly, “I am so—"

“Don't say sorry to me, ” Johnny bit out lowly, turning back to look at the man he sees as his friend now, and then at everyone else. They all flinch back to some degree, and then there is Mark who doesn’t even move. He hasn’t even looked up once, head buried in his knees. Maybe he fell asleep, finally fatigued from having to work three times harder than everyone else. 

Johnny can't relate whatsoever, since he isn’t in any of those units. 

“I don't need it, so let's not. Feel sorry for the work you have to do, ” he added quietly while walking out of the door, “You need to practice. Do that instead.” 

  
-•-  


It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that the last time he goes back to Korea, for the long haul this time around, for better or worse, he is the most changed version of himself.

Everyone notices, to some degree depending on how much they have to see him, be with him for practice and lessons. A newly graduated Johnny, more determined and ambitious than he ever was, towering over every person physically and mentally, is quite a lot to take in for everyone. 

"I refuse to believe that you don't realize it," Doyoung accuses him, gaze narrowed, always so sharp and judgmental. "You have such a fucking oppressive aura, I have no idea how all the seniors got fooled, calling you cute and baby and shit. You probably used to hide it better before." 

Johnny could get furious, and then pass it off as mild irritation, it's not that uncommon for him now. Instead, he cracks up, almost tumbling back and hitting his head against the mirror from the force of it. There aren't that many people you'd find in Korea who don't mince their words. Doyoung brings something new here for sure, and it enchants Johnny. 

It's different than how Ten gets under his skin, and on his nerves. 

He gets up, ready to leave the practice room. Doyoung would obviously want to stay back and belt out the same few notes again and again till his throat is raw.

Johnny smirks, "So, am I your type?" he sing-songs, satisfied when Doyoung freezes, "Do you wanna bang? I won't mind."

He drops another bomb and studies the explosion closely, to discern in which direction this can go and how far he can take it. Johnny wouldn’t mind hopping in on it for a while if it matches his interests. 

Doyoung splutters, mouth opening and closing shut, "Wha.. t?" 

"Am I the only one feeling all this sexual tension?" he presses on, bending down, hovering over the other boy's petrified frame. He doesn't miss the way Doyoung checks him out, eyelashes fluttering as his gaze roams all over Johnny's sweaty, glowing body under the dim lighting. 

He lets the silence build, studies the way the younger boy squirmed under his attention, not exactly pulling away in disgust for someone who sounds as vicious as he does when he goes on lengthy rants about Johnny being a suspicious, shady bastard.

Johnny knows better though, he knows why and perhaps, someone else in his place would have been reluctant to bring it out in the open but he has no such qualms. If nothing else, he get's some entertainment out of this. If it's something more, well then. 

He decides that he has made a point, and suddenly hauls his body away from the other boy's personal space, chucking softly. 

"Relax, I'm joking. Let's not take ourselves too seriously, you can continue now. I'll leave first." He says lightly, pushing his hair away from his face before he turns away.

"But you know what? stop trying to convince Yuta I am going to smother you all in sleep and hack your bank accounts next time you feel frustrated at me." He says over his shoulder lightly but his eyes are narrowed. 

"Just come to me, I'll fuck all that pent up negativity out of you." He leaves without waiting for a reply. 

Over the years, that one interaction changed their dynamics in the long run, perhaps for the worse till they are almost two years into being colleagues. 

With their history of falling into bed occasionally out of absolute, unadulterated annoyance at each other, it's hilarious how at present they end up together in quiet hours at random times, seeking each other out just for Doyoung to use him as an enormous pillow to cuddle at most, whispering about how much he hates, well everything. 

"You mean how much you hate everything related to your crush." Johnny corrects him, mid-rant, sipping on his coffee primly. “How very typical of you.” 

"Hyung, please be quiet, and I did not have crush on you” 

Hands around his arms become tighter, and Doyoung pouts, "Listen to me first, now.”

"No, but am I the only one seeing a pattern here? I know what's going to happen next. Just know you'll have to be the one to take the initiative this time around." He smacks his lips, thinking about Taeyong, always walking on the edge of the shores, vigilant, too cautious. For good reasons. 

"Hyung." Doyoung whines, frowning up at him. "It's not like that."

Johnny cocks an eyebrow up at him, "Like that? Why do you make it sound so— Oh, wow I am hurt, how dare you degrade what we had." He says, acting scandalized for the effect. "Those are precious memories to me."

Doyoung stares at him, blinking in disbelief. But he can tell that the other man is also reminiscing back on it. He imagines what memories are coming back to him now that they are talking about it. 

Maybe the first time back when they were still trainees, Johnny dominating every interaction between them, even in bed. They ended up sharing a room later, and it was oh, so convenient, for a while at least. 

Or the last time, when Doyoung had learnt to push back and attack, words and actions both lethal about the most trivial matters, and yet he would clam up when things blew over and went out of hand, which just left Johnny seething and unapproachable. 

He had pulled the younger man down on his cock, worrying the skin below his nape between his teeth, "We could be best of friends, you know. We really could be. But you have to hate on me, like it's some kind of compulsion. And for what, huh? being myself?" 

He had rolled them around without pulling out and pressed the boy down harshly under his weight, unusually quiet as he fucked him for the next forty minutes in complete silence, edging him again and again. 

Doyoung was in tears by the end, and not of the kind that comes just due to pleasure. For the first time, he wouldn't let him go either. So Johnny pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around his slight frame. 

"Let's stop," he had whispered, petting Doyoung's inky black hair. "Okay? Let's not do this anymore."

"Hyung." Doyoung whispered, so broken. He shook his head, and hot tears spilled on Johnny's chest. "I don't— Hyung, I don't hate you. Never did. I am sorry." 

He sniffled, always such a baby when he got upset, "You were so intimidating. And cool. I didn't know how to tell you that I want to be friends? And — " 

Johnny had not seen that coming for sure but he waits for him to continue.

"And he looked up to you so much, I was kind of jealous." 

Johnny blinks, "Who?" He asks, but he gets his answer in the silence that follows. _Oh?_

"Oh?" He exclaims, as everything slots into place. "Oh fuck--" He says, reverting back to his first language due to how stunned he is. "I— Wow, I feel like shit now. So it's _that_ serious, huh?" 

Doyoung shakes his head. "No, it's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

"But, still,” He sighs, rubbing his face. "For what's its worth. He doesn't like me like that. We just did what you and I have been doing, only a few times. You don't like me like that. I don't like either of you like that either. I am removing myself from this equation." 

Monogamy is an absurd concept, for sure. But he can't be too judgmental, and enforce his own views here because this is about his friends. 

Well, a friend he slept with and another kind of, maybe a friend he has been fucking regularly, too be more specific. 

"I am aware, thanks." 

"You are?" He pouts, suddenly affronted, "Then why are you so _mean_ to me? You could have told me since the start, you know. I would have helped you." He can't help sounding a little petulant as Doyoung pats his chest soothingly for a while before he falls asleep, and it's nice. For a change. 

Maybe if they changed up a few things, they can be good together. As much as he enjoys fucking in general, Doyoung is a great person to have by your side even without that incentive. Or so Taeyong says. Doyoung starts sobbing when Johnny tells him about that, but he couldn’t deduce in the end if it was because to happiness or devastation.

What he can say with conviction is that their leader was right about Doyoung, because Johnny gets to experience it too, in the coming years. You can't go wrong with having someone made of so much substance and viciousness backing you up, unless he turns against you.

So Johnny keeps the other boy close, and held by the neck. No one can ever tell if it's there out of love or a reminder that he can snap it very easily if he wanted to. 

-•- 

"It's different," Doyoung says now, "Not better. It's just .." 

"Not the same." Johnny finishes for him instead because that's the plot of at least a thousand and one cliché stories about love triangles and unrequited feelings. Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have the slightest interest in being the second lead of anyone's love life.

Doyoung agrees, nodding his head. He stares at him from the corner of an eye, "You're Johnny hyung though. No one can take your place." And that's probably the closest to an admission of love he will ever get. As generous as he is with sharp words, Doyoung is the worst at wording genuine emotions. 

"That's adorable, honey. I love you too." He says solemnly. 

He doesn't miss the small, knowing smile pulling reluctantly on Doyoung's face, dissolving his sharp features into something soft. 

"Ah, hyung. I know there are people you can't say it to either, right?" Doyoung presses, leaning in closer to stare at his face. 

"I don't know what you are talking about." He says quickly, any attempt to not sound defensive going down the drain right away. 

"Oh, you do. You aren't that oblivious for sure. You just keep your eyes closed in the face of things… shifting. You're worse than me." Doyoung yawns loudly, getting up from the couch. 

"Still don't know what nonsense are going on about." 

"You do, and that's some delicate territory everyone is sensitive about,” Doyoung says, pointing at him, “You're being watched.”

“Shut up.” Johnny frowns, “ aren't you getting a little too mouthy with me?”

Doyoung's wary expression melts into something sheepish, and he grins like there is a knife on his throat. 

“Right.” He squeaks out, nodding his head as he backs away. “Goodnight, Hyung."

  
-•-

Change has been a constant in their lives, so he is not sure why it makes him so cautious now. 

-•-

  
"It's not a bad thing, right? It's just different," Jaehyun told him, the nature of solace that he offered awfully distinct from the rest, flashing his dimples in a sympathetic smile when they had gotten drunk together the last time, "but it's still here. We all are here, together in this. That's what matters, right? No matter how much things change or how much we change, we just need to stick together."

He patted Johnny's chest lightly, before he dozed off, just like the angel Johnny always trusts him to be, ready to fill every narrative with optimism and positivity. They never really vibed on a personal level, so distinct and removed from each other's way of perceiving life. But then there's a unique charm to it, having such a connection in life, never quite on the same path but still closely parallel enough for them to be close without any feathers ruffled. 

Meanwhile, half of his conscience is cursed to sound like Ten forever, which he laments frequently about in his own head. He is, quite literally the devil on his other shoulder, always was, and recently, Johnny is struggling with the realization that it will always be the case. 

Which brings him back to his current predicament.

  
-•-

  
Johnny catches himself getting lost in the past way too frequently these days, now that time moves like lightning for all of them and they are left to flounder, running along with the passing minutes and days, attempting to fit in whatever they can in these moments. 

Ten throws him a sharp look when he catches him standing near the door, just studying them both pensively. He raises an eyebrow, smirking lightly before he moves his attention back to the youngest. Ten carefully pushes Mark's messy bangs away from his forehead now, pulling his beanie down some more before he pats his cheeks lovingly, cooing at him. 

Mark giggles nervously, but there is no protest whatsoever in sight, not a peep to be heard, a far cry from years ago when he would have had a lot to say about how he isn't a baby and they shouldn't treat him as such.

He sighs, turning away. "Come on then, can't miss the reservation." He says, as he opens the door, closing it behind him after the other two walk out first.

"Oiiii— dude you booked us a table already? Thought we were just gonna like— swing it." Mark says, staring up at him as he settles back against the mirror in the elevator, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, dark wide eyes gleaming under the low golden lights.

"That was— um, quick?" Mark breaks the eye contact first, a short laugh leaving him. "You know, I thought it's supposed to be like, mad crowded recently." He goes on, eyes trailing back and forth between him and Ten now. 

Johnny concentrates on the floor numbers flashing beside him instead, "You know me," he drawls, turning towards the door when it opens as they reach the underground parking area.

"He wouldn't get caught stepping a foot in some fancy place without reservation, Markie." Ten finishes it for him, swiftly. His tone hovering on the edge of slipping right into mocking, but not quite there. Not really, when it is a fact. And, the reservation was technically done almost a week ago, but Mark doesn’t know that. 

Mark hums, body on autopilot as he goes for shotgun as always, hands freezing midway. His fingers do an awkward dance in the air before he brings them together in a tight fist, stuffing it in his hoodie pocket. He jerks away swiftly, opening the door of the back seat with the other hand instead and slips in with a clumsy turn.

Subtlety leaves with a headshake, appalled at the disrespect. 

Ten studies Johnny from the other side of the car, his gaze razor-sharp, head tilting to the side as if he is trying to listen to what no one is saying. 

"You know how he hates waiting, right?" Ten says instead, going back to the conversation from before, pretending that nothing is out of place. It's also blatant slander, because Johnny is extremely patient with things and people that actuallly deserve it, although he does admit that he tends to get slightly broody if he is made to wait unnecessarily. He just doesn't like wasting his time on things that are of no interest to him. 

"Also, how paranoid he gets about new places, new things." Ten continues, following Mark to the back seat, gracefully sliding in right behind him. 

Johnny roles his eyes, exhaling loudly before he rips the door of the driver seat open. 

" _Shut_ the fuck up?" He grumbles, as he gets in. "I am paying for dinner. Can't you two just be grateful?" He goes on, putting on his seat belt, hoping that he doesn't sound as moody as he is feeling. 

“What? I’m just saying how you only want to give the best to your favorite people.” Ten defends himself, smirking lightly. 

“Oh, _really_?” He bites out, not rebutting the casual statement, “How about saying ‘thank you' then, huh? Ever tried that?”

Mark leans in closer from the back seat, putting his whole weight on Johnny's seat, staring at his side profile intently, "Uh, thanks?" he mumbles, voice strangely meek, the shyness drips off the edges of his words, dampening the insides of Johnny's car in the unapologetic gut-churning awkwardness that Mark carries with him everywhere.

"Hyung, do you— I mean if you um, no I just think we can divide?— the bill I mean? We can pay too, right?"

Mark trails off, words almost overlapping in a hurry to get them all out in a sequence that actually made sense. His right hand climbs up the back of the driver's seat, settling on Johnny's neck, nails burrowing in warm flesh lightly. 

Johnny grips the stirring wheel, a weak attempt at grounding himself. He jabs the key in ignition, gaze darting up in the rear view mirror. Ten has his head tilted down, the sides of his lips stretched up in that way that makes him look feline — a ferocious, nosy kitten.

_Like you? You aren't any better._

He can almost hear it in his head, a murky memory buried in their past. They were fighting, or just arguing. Perhaps, back then he thought that they were. However, now that it is coming back to him, Ten did not sound indignant, words exasperated but fond nevertheless. 

It is a morbid epiphany to have, on a weekend. Memories, the building blocks of our reality and they might not even be credible— contorted by old, forgotten streaks of emotions we don't feel anymore, leaving behind warped memories that can't be trusted. How pathetic, poor him and the rest of his kind. 

Though, he wouldn't deny that Ten has never been the one with temperament issues, at least between the two of them. In fact, he possessed the equable serenity Johnny pretended to have at times, for arguably understandable reasons. 

Ten hardly ever got angry at him, always understanding and perhaps, a little too charmed, he assumes. 

No, it was he himself, back then, defensive and pissed off, squaring up in the face of any form of authority, snapping barbed words back at anyone who came too close to being an equal instead, neither above him but not ready to be below either.

In their company, Johnny is perceived in three ways; depending on the age, gender and professional seniority of the people who know him. He is the adorable, sweet younger brother to a group of people who will see him like that no matter how much he grows, to another he is the somewhat moody, silver tongued peer and senior who provokes an unknown terror in them without really doing anything. They don't like to see him without his sunshine smile plastered at all times, for sure. 

Then there's the third kind, an open group where a few people enter cautiously every year and never leave. The people who know he's neither just a stable emotional support, giving hugs and comfort for free, nor is he a scheming, tricky mastermind plotting world domination, ready to step on everyone in the path towards his individual goals. 

He is in fact, a quarter of both and half a normal boy who grew up dreaming about being famous, rich and still loved, many friends and more than friends to spoil because he genuinely enjoys the act of caring for people who look up to him. He also highly appreciates people who think about making him feel adored and cared for. 

It's just that for him to accomplish all those things, he has to be a certain way, act differently around people depending on their stature and all aspects of the situation he is in. He doesn't think he is manipulative for that, because he is doing what has to be done, for him to live his life with the sweet pleasure of knowing that he didn't wait around for the highest form of satisfaction and contentment to come knocking on his door. He chased after it instead, doing whatever he can to get rid of the maddening starvation he still can't pinpoint the cause of but it makes his skin crawl and keeps him awake even when he is physically exhausted. 

And possibly, he just really hates waiting, so there's that.

His heart topples over at the all-knowing, smugness being shoved in his face right now from the backseat, and there is this rare regret flowing through his veins, making home in the tips of his fingers, the clench of his jaw.

"Already called dibs on paying, Mark Lee. So I will be doing it." He says, not unkindly, reprimanding himself in his own head while he is at it, not ready to accept how rattled he is feeling.

"Now think about what you want to eat and relax, dude." He says, in general, to everyone present. Himself, specially. 

"Do you want some music meanwhile, gentlemen?" He asks, plastering a cheerful expression on his face.

Ten hums, "How about some SuperM?" He laughs then, amused by how Mark refuses to look at either of them, coughing in embarrassment. 

-•- 

Mark's foot relentlessly taps against the back of his seat, completely unmatched with the heavy beats echoing in the enclosed space.

The hand on his neck stays, fingers tracing the slope that leads down to his shoulder. 

He forgets about them mostly, perhaps too used to the restless, anxiety-ridden touches now, to properly tell the difference between them being there or not anymore. 

Or.

Maybe he just doesn't mind. Maybe he even likes it.

Maybe. 

-•-

They huddle closer, pushing their chairs on one side of the round table settled in a corner of the cafe; a cafe only in name as it sprawls across two floors, split up in four separate rooms. The attendant had guided them to the quietest one, most spacious with dim aurora lights hanging from the ceiling, low music, dark granite walls decorated with elegant, warm sceneries from around the world, and all of it reflects in the flooring underneath their feet, granting the whole place a distinctive aesthetic of delusive grandeur. All the tables are occupied, and yet they are set in a way that not much can be heard from around them except the light murmurs and clinking of spoons from time to time.

"Damn though, this is a cafe?" Mark murmurs, curiously looking around as he pushes his hair up, beanie clutched in his other hand.

"I'm impressed, hyung. It's such a pretty place.” Ten agreed, “Totally gonna come on a date here next time." 

He snickers then, going through the menu with a lot of interest, and Johnny's thinks his eyeballs will fall out of the sockets with all the rolling he has been doing continuously since he saw him today. 

Mark starts choking on nothing, which is not that unusual for him, all things considered. So Johnny pours him some water, slides the glass towards him and sincerely hopes that this burgeoning sense of impending disaster is only a paranoia induced delusion. 

Johnny was under the impression that they had collectively decided not to make any unnecessary commentary, when they all chose to stay quiet as the attendant led them here, profusely apologizing for not being able to provide them with a better table, as they were already fully booked, she explained politely, and Johnny had called in to make changes at the very last minute, requesting for a table for three instead of just two like he had originally requested. 

He knew where this will go, if he allowed it. And the thing is that generally he wouldn't mind, getting into a heated, friendly jabbing session with one of the few humans on the planet who have seen Johnny from a very protected, personal space that he guards like a primitive beast keeping his marked territory safe. 

But then there is another one of those people, sitting to his right, focused on burying himself in the menu as if he can't read, even with his glasses sitting prettily on his scrunched up nose, lips twisted to the side.

Mark gives off the impression that he is trying to decode the hardest mystery of the universe when it's literally just fifty different types of pasta dishes at most. 

Johnny sighs, grabbing the back of Ten's neck, squeezing it in a very friendly warning with a slight smile to go with it, "Weren't you seeing someone recently? How did that go?"

"Not well, seeing how I am here with you two obviously." Ten says loftily, "But you know, I never say no to opportunities."

Ten sneaks a glance at Mark, then turns to Johnny again "Unlike you, darling. When was the last time you dated?"

Johnny tugs at the long strands of hair at the back of Ten's head, staring at him steadily, not ready to step down, "Wasn't that long ago, it just fizzled out after we came back from the tour." He shrugs. 

He then contemplates if he should say what he is about to, painfully amused at himself for being so cautious. It shouldn't be so hard, not between them. 

But things aren't how they used to be, and the people on this table aren't either. 

"You know I hate forcing it, just to make shit work out, either they naturally do or they don't." He spills it out, like a hot cup of bitter black coffee deliberately being pushed over. As always he waits for a reaction, people backing away, a pained yelp, a few curses and people dying to scream at him, but holding it back because it is an accident of course, he didn't really mean to.

Yet, people become watchful, cautious when he is around. No one ever wants to get scalded and worry about an ugly, stubborn stain on top of it and Johnny just happens to be so clumsy, no understanding of how much destruction he can cause. He can be hazardous and has no awareness of it at all, now does he?

He gets silence on his table, which doesn't surprise him either. 

Someone lets out a scandalized gasp on the other side of the room though, so he will just pretend it's for him instead. 

Ten has a lot to say, he can tell. He is struggling not to let some words escape by accident, as they both wouldn't want Mark to hear a few things, for their own personal reasons. 

"How sexy of you, Hyung." Ten mutters but he gives in first for the time being, and pats his elbow, calling for a truce.

For now. 

"What about you, Markie?" Ten starts, dropping one battle only to pick up another, more complex and tricky one instead. Johnny melts back in to his chair, staring up at the ceiling, envisioning how it would fall right on them and then they would escape the uncomfortable train-wreck of a mess incoming in the form of this next conversation. 

"No wait," Johnny interrupts, impatience coloring his tone now. "We are going to order first." He declares, calling for a waiter quickly. He can stall like this for now, and then maybe he will run off to the washroom for a while if they continue talking about this. 

They order in three dishes, and the waitress is almost about to leave when Johnny decides to order in one more, because why the fuck not. He can. He will be going to the gym later at night, an extra hour of work out is just fine with him. 

And the more food to stuff their faces in, the less words they will have to use. 

"So, four dishes for three people, Sir?" The waitress inquires with a smile, giving away her skepticism. 

Johnny doesn't give a shit. 

"Yes," He confirms, fingers tapping a calm beat on the table. "Oh, and forgo dairy please." He says, folding his legs, a small smile consciously pulled on his face. 

"For everything?" She asks, looking around at all of them.

"Um," Mark peers up at him, eyes wide. He scratches the side of his neck, "bro— you don't need to, I mean, for real it's cool-" Johnny cuts him off before he can finish, tilting his head to the side.

"What?" Johnny asks, perfectly casual, a puzzled look in place for show.

"I am on a diet so," he trails off, turning his face to the other side, "gotta be careful. Tennie, do you mind?" 

"Mn, not really." He shrugs, smiling at Mark. 

Mark searches his face, nodding slowly but not quite convinced by the looks of it. 

"Will that be all?" The waitress asks, still staring at Johnny. Perhaps, she sees how he is calling the shots, as she should because he is paying. 

Or it could be that he just looks good.

He runs a hand through his hair, nodding with a polite smile.

"Oh, actually—Sorry, haha" Mark starts, before Johnny can say yes. He looks down at the menu, slapping his fingers in quick succession against Johnny's bicep, "Dude, there's risotto here, uh— we like, had it in New York. I mean Taemin hyung had it, but I tried it too, it's like cooked in this broth thingy, it tastes mad good. Um," he looks up, gaze jumping from one person to the other, all staring at him in various degrees of amusement, "so, can we get it?" He finishes, voice going a little high as blood rushes up his neck and cheeks in embarrassment. He clears his thought, clutching Johnny's arm tightly. 

"It tastes so good, Johnny. For real." He mumbles, so earnestly that you would feel horrible to say no. It's good for the world that Mark just happens to be one of the kindest people on earth and he wouldn't misuse his bizarrely proficient convincing skills. Well, mostly anyway. 

Johnny’s lips twitch, exasperation taking over his whole being, "Well, you heard him, please note it down." 

The waitress smiles back, looking quite confused now, "Okay, so that would be five dishes for three people?" She asks, noting it down when Johnny nodes. "Will that be all then?" 

"Yes, thank you." He says, setting away the menu. 

Ten is reaching over him, to pinch Mark's cheeks. Or at least he attempts with a lot of patience of someone who keeps getting rejected. "So cute, my little baby." He makes exaggerated cooing noises and Mark pushes his hands away, mumbling about too much touching. 

This, is familiar now. This is how they have always been. Even in Johnny's reasonably cynical mind, this is the fall back safe place. The nostalgia is building a castle in his heart, lounging on it's throne today. 

He can almost imagine Jaehyun and Haechan tagging along too, maybe Yuta if he wasn't busy with extra language classes; a whole evening of petty snipping and scathing insults, Yuta dragging Mark through the mud for existing, Haechan sneakily attempting to climb on his lap, Ten being Mark's shield and Jaehyun very pointedly eating with his irenic little smile, not giving a shit about them till his belly is filled to the brim. It's easy to get swept away in it, even if just for a few spare moments after which they eventually have to come back to the reality of their present.

It's very homey. But he abhors that discourse a little too much, cringing at his own line of thought. 

They rib Mark for a while, because them hanging out is never complete till Mark is red in the face with embarrassment, whining and ready to call the police on them. Johnny tells him he just didn't want to trouble the manager just in case Mark ends up with a bad stomach tonight. The younger one, who has never acknowledged his ongoing struggle with lactose intolerance just gapes at him, wounded and imploring. Johnny was expecting some form of protest, itching for it even and he can't help the sour taste trickling down his throat when it never comes. 

“Don’t worry dude, he went home for the weekend.” Mark mumbles, rubbing the side of his face. 

“Oh?” Johnny didn't know that surprisingly. He stares at Mark, who coughs loudly, but his hand is still on the older man's bicep. 

He reaches out to flick at one of Mark's ridiculously defined cheekbones, a visible evidence of his maturity he staggered into quite gracelessly. Mark sneaks subtle glances at him, fingers sliding down from his arm to the rough, lax skin on his elbow, pinching it lightly.

"So, Mark Lee, seeing anyone lately?" 

And there he goes, he cries out mentally. On the outside he doesn't even react.

He just wants to strangle Ten sometimes, he really does. The itch is extremely strong right now, but it would be of no use because he knows for a fact that Ten would actually enjoy it, and then goad him for some more. 

"I see a lot of people on a daily basis, hyung." 

"Ooh, so clever, baby. But no. Go on, don't be shy." Ten says, leaning in a little. "Tell me, tell me, maybe I can help?" 

The youngest stalls, thumbing the beauty mark on the side of his face as if he can feel it is their, gaze fluttering around the cafe with too much interest for it to look casual. But god bless, he tries his best, as Mark always does.

"No one, like for real." He grunts, voice steady for someone who might actually be lying. "I don't— uh, haha —see people, hyung..um not — like that you know." He explains, or tries to, holding Ten's gaze for a few moments before he cracks a thin smile, ducking his head down, "I mean, I really don't think it's practical right now, yeah?"

_How do you like to see people, then?_ He wants to ask suddenly, but chooses to be wise and stays mum.

Ten smirks, "Umhm, are you sure about not finding anyone of even a little bit of interest though?" 

"Uh, I think so?" says Mark, too fast, refusing to meet Ten's searching gaze. He shifts in his chair, clearing his throat again, and if Johnny didn't know better he'd ask him about it. 

Ten grins, chin placed on top of his palm, and it somewhat softens the shrewd, dangerous sheen in his eyes. He can be terrifying when he wants something from you and you don't hand it over to him on a platter right after his very first, harmless and sweet request. 

It is basically an open invitation for Ten to go after you, no holds barred, and it always ends up being messy. 

Johnny respects that. 

Their relationship has a base rooted in their mutual interest in being ruthless to achieve whatever they want and being absolutely shameless, unapologetic about it. 

In any other situation, he would back Ten up as always. He enjoys hot, explosive messes like any normal, healthy man would. But he is hunting on the edge of Johnny's territory, one wrong turn away from breaching and wrecking a havoc he is not in the mood to deal with.

They serve themselves when the food arrives, and he is shares bemused glances with the other two. That really is a lot, he thinks. 

"Well, can't waste food so dig in, that's a lot to finish." He points his fork at Mark, who raises both his palms up, half drowned in the sleeves of his hoodie. Johnny moves his hand to point the fork at Ten, eyeing him up and down, "No talking." He orders, imperiously swishing the fork around like a sword. "Later." 

"But John—"

" _No,_ Tennie. We came here to eat. There's too much to eat. So eat. Now." He grinds it out, voice measured and low. 

Ten stands his ground at first, but after a few stifling moments when Johnny keeps him pinned at the end of that look, he nods slowly and pulls his plate closer. They spend the next few minutes in restrained silence, stuffing their mouths.

Johnny's insides feel numb, he is swallowing it all down without really tasting any of it. 

Ten feeds them both his spaghetti, a little too forceful when it comes to Johnny and he lets the man have his way there. Ten excuses himself to use the washroom, squeezing his thigh as he gets up and Johnny watches him saunter away. Back then, he would have followed maybe. Now, he twists his whole body to his other side and takes in the mess of the present. 

Mark pauses in the middle of lifting his spoon, skittish gaze darting between Johnny and every other random spot in the room before he stares down at his own lap. The older man lifts his hand, making the other boy go rigid, body on verge of backing away at the sudden movement.

Mark does that a lot. Not necessarily with Johnny though, but it really has been one of those days, he reckons and lets it go. 

Johnny hooks his fingers in the pocket of Mark's hoodie, dragging the boy towards himself, angling Mark in a way that they are facing each other. He dives in then, wrapping his mouth around the spoon that Mark was holding, pulling away with a hum.

"Hmn, not bad I guess." He nods, and tugs the dish Mark had asked for towards himself.

"Dude.."

"What?” Johnny widens his eyes innocently, “Didn't you order it for me?"

A prolonged moment of silence later, Johnny shrugs, not commenting on the way Mark's ears go red. 

"And you should eat the other stuff, that won't make your stomach cramp later. We get it, you are into self-torture, you've made your point. You can stop now." 

Mark groans, stuffing his mouth with more spaghetti, chewing away like a chipmunk with his mouth bloated. 

"Are you okay though?" Johnny asks. 

Mark frowns at him, raising his eyebrows up in curiosity. 

"Um yeah? yo wait, no. It's _you_ dude, you're acting mad weird today."

Johnny gives him a look, "Actually, I think you are projecting, Mark. You might want to look into it." 

Mark shakes his head vehemently, "You're just— no I am pretty sure, you're being so off right now man. I am not seeing stuff. You're like, just distracting me again."

Johnny doesn't bother with a reply for a while, and directs all his attention on trying to finish all the food he is paying for. 

"Maybe you just want it to be. Because really, what's so weird about the three of us going out like this?" He raises a brow, sucking on his spoon longer than necessary when Mark peeks up at him, hastily looking away after his gaze drops on Johnny's lips. 

"I didn't mean it like that dude," Mark mumbles, his face all heated up now. "but yo, uh, thanks, for bringing me here. I really like the place."

Johnny shakes his head in disbelief, "That's the _second_ time only today, and today is literally the first time you're thanking me for bringing you out to eat, in the last six years." Mark splutters, mouth falling open at the accusation. 

"You stopped when you were like fifteen, bud." Mark frowns then, and he's probably trying to come up with anything from the past to refute his claim, but the older man knows had won’t find it. 

Johnny heaves out a dramatic sigh, "That's horrible really, but why are you being so polite now, see I told you," he points a fork at Mark, "It's you, you're being a weirdo right now. Just eat your food." 

Mark nods then, not saying anything and Johnny assumes that he might be lost in the past too, the look on his face is somewhere far away from here. 

"Seriously though, it's weird only if you make it weird." He says, when he sees Ten coming back. He turns to the boy sitting beside him, his eyes soft. "Fix your face, Mark."

He watches the way the younger man's face shutters, curtains going down instantly because he's just that good at taking orders. Johnny nodes and drags his gaze away, to grin sweetly at Ten who studies them both suspiciously. 

  
-•-

  
Ten hounds Mark on their way back about the whole seeing people thing and then gushes about Taemin and Jongin, which is so weird for Johnny, to say the least. 

"Seriously though, all of them love Mark. Kai hyung said he'd marry him if he could." 

"Yo, shut _up_." Mark yelps, turning to glare at Ten. 

"He stares at him with so much love, watch out John hyung." Ten teases, laughing loudly when Mark finally attacks him, his complexion flushed even under the dull light. He yanks Ten's shoulder and shoves him away roughly, never shying away from physical retribution even if he would pull a muscle and then some over being showered with innocent, affectionate touches even from people he clearly adores. 

"How cute," Johnny says, with a straight face while he shifts the gear, "But isn't Mark more into Yukhei, though." 

"Dude, can you not—" Mark groans in a high pitched tone, “fucking Jeeesus, I hate you I really do right now.”

"Mark Lee,” Johnny admonishes him, clucking his show tongue, “show some respect to your favorite man." 

Mark goes still abruptly, mouth falling open, " Y-you," he stammers, "You're _not_ my favorite m-man???" 

Johnny slows down when he sees the traffic light go red. He keeps his fixed on it, threading his fingers through his hair. 

"I was talking about Jesus, actually." He informs Mark stoically, “and what do you mean? Is that an insult?”

A hush falls on them as the seconds skip by before the light turns green, and then there is the, "oh!" soft, almost inaudible. 

Ten slaps a hand on his mouth, small giggles breaking out even though he tries not to laugh. 

Mark deflates, curling on himself, pulling on his beanie with a whimper. He bends his head down, both arms around his head. "Alright then, I'm gonna—" he mumbles, "yeah, I'm jumping off this fucking car, don't mind me." 

Ten doesn't bother with holding himself back, and starts cackling, body shaking with the impact of it.

"On a second thought though," Johnny starts, "Maybe, we should rethink on that, huh, Mark? I _am_ your favorite, I think."

-•-


	2. Rise: Venus In Capricorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, yeah. Um— I came? again? So, I mean maybe because, I— I was still thinking of," Mark trails off, poking at the top button of Johnny's black shirt.
> 
> "Me?" Johnny finishes it for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this is basically the whole fic in my head](https://twitter.com/BlusuhnM/status/1294378471209103360?s=20)

When they get back, Doyoung and Yuta are about to head out.

Doyoung twists around when the door opens, frowning lightly at them, pinning Johnny with a sharp stare afterwards. Yuta regards the other two instead, a small, surprised smile on his lips. There is a suspended moment when the five of them just stand there in the insufficient space in front of the couch, not really saying anything.

Johnny has to marvel at his luck for a second, to end up in such a situation with a combination of these particular people. 

"Um, yeah I'll just come back, gotta change." Mark mumbles, shuffling back out of the door with his head down. 

Johnny is so done with this day, he can wait for it to end. He doesn't give the others a chance to corner him, and moves over to the kitchen instead. He needs coffee to deal with this bullshit. 

"Let me know if you want something." He throws over his shoulder at Ten, pointedly ignoring the other two.

He expects, and hopes that the other two would leave by the time he is done here. As much as he appreciates them individually, he can't have all of them in his business or in his private space at the same time, especially not right now. 

He can hear them, the hushed murmurs and loud derisive snorts, amused at his expense and probably talking shit about him. He grabs his mug, runs it under the water and dries it meticulously to pass time. Meanwhile, he thinks about the most creative ways in which he will get back at each of them later. 

The front door slides open, and Ten reminds that he'll call later, not specifying who he will be calling, and then it's silence outside. 

He pours the coffee, and then counts till fifteen under his breath before he heads out, so as to not appear too suspicious, "You're sure you don't want anything?" 

He places his mug on the table and throws himself down on the couch, stretching out comfortably. 

"Oh, I _do_ want something." Ten says, suddenly getting up only to slide over his lap, settling down gracefully. "Johnny."

And it's so, so weird.

It's not the same, not how he used to say his name, not how it used to make him feel. It feels like an overdue punch to the gut.

But there was a time when Johnny would have reacted differently to this as well. Ten sliding up to him, spreading himself over him. It's familiar. But at the same time, it's just not. It's the emotion that goes along with how he couldn't grasp the reality of being back at home, when they reached Illinois and then the sudden realization that it doesn’t feel familiar any more. 

Johnny isn't the way he used to be either. 

"Thought we don't do this anymore." He mumbles, getting a smack on his chest for that.

"Stop changing the subject. Go on, give it to me, the truth. What is going on?" Johnny tucks the loose strands the other boy's hair behind his ears, enjoying all the beauty sitting on top of him. 

"Language." 

"Oh please," Ten snaps at him but then a sly smile breaks out on his face, and he leans closer, "You're such an asshole sometimes, do you even plan on it or" he waves his hands around, "or it just comes naturally?" 

He grips the other boy, fingers digging in his waist, "Why Tennie, don't you know it the best? Thought you were writing a book on me." 

"I am, and I will dedicate it to Mark. Since he has to put up with you the most." 

"Sweetheart, I am a _joy_ to be around, I am the one who has to put up with both of you, no actually _all_ of you." He says, letting his head fall back, "Nothing is going on, mind your business." 

He pushes him off to the side, "Okay, get off. He must be coming back." 

"Oh!" Ten exclaims, sitting beside him. Johnny leans over to take a few sip of his coffee, " _Nothing_ is going on. But I shouldn't get seen sitting on your lap, huh? He has seen us in even more interesting positions, so what's so different now?"

"My personal business,” he states, because sometimes the other man just needs neatly drawn, visible lines to get it and Johnny can accommodate him without any problem. Ten deserves his patience, all things considered, “it's not for you to play detective over." 

Ten presses close, snaking his arms around Johnny's torso. "If it is about you or Mark, it _is_ my business." 

Johnny shakes his head, spreading his arms over the back rest. "Doesn't work like that, baby. I appreciate the concern, but it's not about you and him, _or_ you and me. It's between the two of us, we will sort it out." He shrugs.

"So there _is_ something, between the two of you?" 

He feels a muscle jump in the right side of his face, and he reminds himself to keep his cool, "There is always something between two people, you know."

He leaves it at that, turning to watch Mark barge in through the door, swimming in a very familiar, grey hoodie and old shorts that are too tight on him recently. He turns to close the door and Johnny rakes his gaze up and down almost involuntarily, snapping his head away when the other boy moves, making his way over. 

Ten scoffs, which turns into a yelp when Johnny pinches the skin below his ear between his nails. 

Mark takes in the way the other two are pressed together as he waddles closer, ignores the empty space beside Johnny and drops down on the rug, near Ten's feet instead. 

"What are we watching?" Mark asks. He rests his back on Ten's knee, tilting his head to look at them upside down, his doe eyes wide open, so innocent, the embodiment of viridity.

Johnny doesn't buy it. 

His fingers twitch and he curls them in a fist. Ten grins, murmuring something to Mark, who nods and takes the remote, Johnny is not sure what is being said, he can't hear anything with the tremulous storms wrecking havoc inside his head. 

He silently watches how Ten parts his thighs, pulling the younger boy closer, who yips loudly as he gets enclosed in the tight space. Ten giggles, running a hand through Mark's messy hair. "Hyung," Mark says, a low whine in his tone.

"Yes, my baby." Ten answers back, patting his head. 

"Ayee, whatever." Mark drops his head down sideways, his cheek all bunched up against the fabric of Ten's trouser. 

Johnny drops down his left hand, placing it on his own thigh, close to Mark's face and he can almost feel the warmth radiating from him. 

  
-•-

  
Mark falls asleep in no time curled up like a baby, face pressed in Ten's thigh. Johnny counts his breaths, even and long. 

He knows it is coming, when Ten puts his chin on his shoulder, a hand sneaking up against his jaw, "you've never treated me like a fool, so don't start now."

He whispers in Johnny's ear, and the older man doesn't back away.

Ten finds his hand, threading their fingers together. Johnny turns to him suddenly, and wonders what is written all over his own face, cracked open and on display, because Ten isn't smiling anymore, it isn't amusement crackling like thunder in his eyes.

His next inhale is sharp, " _Look_ at you, darling." his voice trembles, and Johnny wouldn't deny that it does things to him, gasoline being poured generously in the fire charring away his senses. 

"So fucking _hot_ like this," he purrs softly, adam's apple shifting, digging in Johnny's bicep. 

"All worked up like this, so in _control_ , and hating every minute of it." He grips Johnny's hand, who glares evenly at him, his jaw set.

"It's okay, John. You've been such a good hyung to us. To him." Ten reassured him, but he didn't even know that he needed it. He must appear so miserable right then. "You don't need to be scared--'

"I am _not_ ," he interrupts, voice tight, "Just a tad bit disturbed maybe. I am not scared, of anything." 

Ten smiles, pressing his lips to the shell of his ear, rubbing a thumb over his knuckle, "Then take what you want, what's stopping you?" He purrs, a mischievous smirk pulling his lips taut. Ten tugs his hand forcefully, close to his lap.

"Ten," warns Johnny, " _Don't_."

But his palm is already on top of a thick mop of hair, being held there by Ten. He licks his lips, forcing himself to not let his eyes waver down. He audibly swallows when Mark rubs his head against the touch, letting out a soft, fragile groan. 

"Don't be so hard on yourself, and on him." The tone is soft, but it sounds like he is being chastised. Johnny blows out a breath, roughly shoving away his hair. He grips the back of his own neck roughly, focusing on the sting his nails leave behind. 

“You’ll eventually give in anyway.”

-•-

  
Mark startles, when consciousness seeps back in. He tries to pull away from the warmth underneath his temple, recalling how he fell asleep but his attempts are halted, strong limbs tightening around him. 

"Wanna go to bed?" comes the soft whisper, warm, caffeinated breath on his face. Mark jumps, and wriggles around to fight of the chill travelling down his body. With his toes scrunched up, he yawns loudly and nods his head. 

"Uhm yeah," he says, he makes to get up, sliding down and that's when he realizes that he is not even on the ground. The surface beneath his ass is definitely warm, and hard but kinda squishy, he gropes to check, squinting his eyes.

"Mark?" 

"Uh, why am I- wait, my glasses?" 

Someone slides his glasses back on his face, and oh, he is sitting on top of thighs apparently. He follows the path upwards, the thickness consistent from the expansive torso, to the built chest, hard nipples denting the shirt, broad shoulders, neck and there it is, the face.

_Uh wait— that looks a lot like—_

"Johnny?" He whispers, blinking owlishly. 

"Oh, you know your body parts for sure, huh Mark?" 

"Uh!" He responds intelligently, the skin on his neck and face warming up. 

"So, bed?"

"I—yeah," says Mark, voice still slurred, "Um—gonna go, okay." 

He shuffles to move away, but there are strong arms around his waist, he lifts his head from the shoulder and looks back at Johnny. Johnny is looking at him too.

"G'night," he mumbles, as the older man releases him. And because Johnny is just so, so good and very handsome, and still looking at him gently which is actually so rare, he leans in mindlessly, smacking a dry kiss on his cheek. "A’ight man, I'm gonna go now." 

He gets off the older man's lap not even knowing how he got there, but that's one good lap, the best one, like it really holds all of his ass comfortably and he almost doesn't want to go but none of them get to do just whatever they want around here, and he isn't special. 

It's only when he is near the front door, leaving for the tenth floor when he stills, frowning. Did Ten hyung leave, he thinks. He scratches his head and turns around.

"Hey, John—" 

Mark stops dead, a loud yelp leaving him due to the jumpscare and his eyes almost fall of his sockets because Ten is sitting right there on the other side of the couch, an imperious grin on his face that actually scares Mark. 

"Oh Fu— I didn't see— yo I'm gonna go, wow. Bye, hyung ha ha." 

He strides away with his back rigid, banging the door shut in their faces. 

  
-•-

  
"You were taking him out, right?" 

Johnny doesn't say anything, still starting at the door. 

"What happened? Couldn't tell him? Did you freak out?"

" _He_ was the on the verge of freaking out, sweety. That's not my style."

"So you told him?" Ten stares at him, “that you were taking him out?" 

"Last night, yes," Johnny says. “then this morning, he was like so how many of us are going and I was like what?”

"Wait, last night? Hyung! You could have done it a week ago, when you actually got the reservation."

"Nah, he'd work himself up way too much” Johnny frowns, "He got all weird about it but he didn't say anything.”

“And then?”

“Then,” he exhales, staring up at the ceiling, “in the morning I got weird for like a minute, when he asked about it. He looked so uncomfortable. So anyway, then I called you.”

“So you called me, to what? Make it seem like you weren't taking him out?” Ten accuses him, more exasperated than anything. 

“I didn't specify who all were included in the _we_ anyway. I mean, we always go out, alone, with others, it's not a big deal. It wasn't supposed to be. I was.. huh mostly I wanted to see how he'd react?”

He sips his lukewarm coffee and regrets even trying. Literally, no one even asked. What was he thinking? 

"It's stupid, to be honest. That's why dating is such a fad, god I'm glad I stopped. Not gonna start trying now for sure. Who the hell even dates colleagues who live in your pocket? That's _dumb_." 

Ten glares at him, and it occurs to Johnny that he might have said something personally offensive, with that thing with Kun going on recently. But then, Johnny said what he said, and he stands by it all things considered. Romantic relationship with people who you also share a contractual career with, a headache for sure.   
  
"But he knows you booked a table for two,” Ten points out, jabbing a finger at him so he grabs his hand, stilling it on his chest, “now what if he's thinking, I don’t know, maybe he thinks he just assumed that your _we_ included him and you had to make changes last minute because you didn't want to embarrass him?" 

"Damn, imagine thinking I'd miss a chance to embarrass him, that's _so_ unrealistic." Johnny says, rubbing his thumb in the middle of Ten's palm. His hands are so small against his. 

"Imagine just saying 'we're going out' to someone but not even letting them know you want to take them out." Ten shoots back, hiding his face in the palm of his hand before he continues. 

"And Mark has no control over.. his imagination. Why am I explaining this? _To_ _you_? It's Mark, people come to you for their Mark Lee problems. " 

Johnny thinks about Mark then, hiding somewhere right now definitely, beating himself over everything he thinks he shouldn't have done, shouldn't have said. The irritation rears it's head back instantly at that thought.

"Johnny." Ten implores, his eyes grave. 

"I know," He sighs, "God, I _know_." 

-•-

"I'm going to head out, Kun-ge is calling."

"Oh, _kun-ge_ is calling." 

Ten slaps his chest, and pulls him close. 

"Hyung," Ten starts, and just no, nope.

"Not again." Johnny says.

"I just—"

"There's a limit to which I'd let you interfere, and you're crossing it right now." He says, firmly but still mellow in tone. 

Ten glides in, arms coming up around the older man's waist. He tucks his head against Johnny's neck, hugging him tightly. 

"He used to talk a lot about you, back when we were touring." Ten informs him, "He missed you, and whenever you called Taeyong-ie he would sit there, listen to you both talk. You even called me. Hyung, you're so bad sometimes." He chuckles tiredly, "I _know_ you." 

“I am innocent.” Johnny insists, and holds him close, gripping the back of neck tightly, "But actually, things got kinda weird back then. I'll tell you some other time though."

"And I miss you," He adds, because it feels like he hasn't told him that in eons now.

"Umhm, me too. But don't change the subject." 

"The subject is closed to any third party intervention now." He says, dropping a kiss on his neck and Ten shudders against him, gripping him tighter. 

"Ah, hyung. You're really all mature now, before you like just pretended to be sometimes," Ten says, his voice faltering even though he is trying to go for a biting tone. "Wish I could be here and experience how it feels too, huh." 

And unfortunately, Johnny knows what that means. 

"I am sorry." he whispers, because he doesn't deserve to say anything else at least to that. He doesn't have any right. 

"Nah, don't be. I'm not." Ten whispers, "Anyways, I get it, sorry. I just want Mark to be safe, you know, he's so, so ..." Ten trails off, and it is rather interesting to know that he too seems to have a new perspective on all that is Mark Lee, after spending these last few months around him, away from Johnny's shadow.

"Yeah.." he agrees. Mark really is just .. so. 

“He— I guess I didn't realize, because it's always all of us together. But, he's really all grown up,” Ten confesses, his thoughts going in the same direction as Johnny's effortlessly, “Ah, or just different when you aren't around.” 

“Interesting, huh?” 

Ten looks up at him, his expression serious, "and I always want the best for you, Johnny." 

Johnny lifts the boy up at that, swaying him gently from side to side. 

"You can be a bastard sometimes, but you're still the best, best man in the world." Ten tells him, " _Really_ , hyung." 

"Still?" Johnny asks, going for a smirk even though his eyes are burning.

"Fuck _yes_ , especially now. Maturity is the sexiest look on you, hyung." He kisses his cheekbone, wet and sloppy. 

Johnny laughs, his voice scratchy.

"I try." he relents, his thoughts drifting away on to something his Dad had said to him during the tour, when they were leaving. 

"Go now," Johnny pats his head, a little distracted, " _Kun-ge_ is waiting." He imitates Ten, because it's fun and waves cutely at him 

Ten snorts as he walks out, "Bye asshole, come over sometime. You have fans there." 

"And get poisoned by your _fan_? Nope, I avoid a trap when I see one." 

"Darling, stop running away." It echoes, seeping through the door as it bangs shut, circling in his head like a vulture. 

_Stop running away._

  
-•-

  
He doesn't know how well he hides it. If he even needs to. 

Since the day he walked inside the practice room, stopping dead in the midst of his power walking, when he saw a little Mark, too tiny for his actual age, taking in the room with his starry dark eyes, his life took a turn on it's head and has been spinning since then. 

Of course Mark isn't the reason, but he is there. His presence, his existence, it's significant. Mark comes to the company like the second coming of the Lord, reviving them from a stale slump that was damaging the public image with various types of accusations and stereotypes flying around about the company produced artists; and Mark was the start of a new cycle, meant for something unique and removed from whatever the company had experimented with till then. 

There was something so magnetic and promising; in the rawness of his talent and abilities, his natural charisma with a microphone placed in his skinny hands as the years pass by, his bright voice and uncontrollable giggles is all what anyone could talk about. Being a trainee it was either a blessing, if you could align yourself with the stream in which Mark was seamlessly flowing, or else you got left behind and were dropped from the plan, the great shift, whatever it was.

He was the benchmark and it wasn't always said aloud but it could be felt, silently woven into their aching bones and uncertain hearts, and everyone had to work on themselves to fit in with his energy. 

Mark was the ideal trainee, the one the company would put everything behind and he was so young, completely exposed and open to receiving what he was being given, and he was always thankful for it. He kept his heart and mind focused on training and let the others handle what had to be made out of the result of all his efforts. 

In that regard, he was the antithesis of everything Johnny stood for. 

Back then Johnny though, _I can respect_ that. Though, he wouldn't get caught saying that loudly. 

-•-

  
He takes in Mark sitting in the middle of the practice room, months before he has to debut for the first time, without Johnny. 

“You know,” he starts, leaning on the door casually, “I respect the way you are going on about this, I really do.”

Since day one. 

It works wonderfully for Mark considering his age and nature, which will eventually change, and so will Mark and his way of tackling things.

For now, he doesn't agree with it, but he doesn't necessarily has many opinions on how Mark chooses to reach his destination. And he respects Mark's dreams too, his ambitions that tower over even that of Johnny's by the looks of it, not very capitalistic and economical in it's base nature, rather it is more philanthropic and dare he say, humanitarian. 

Johnny would get behind it too frankly, but first he needs to find his own place in the society.

Regardless, Mark speaks to the greed in Johnny, the greed for better, for the most magnificent, for something special and out of the box, something unlike what they have seen till now. Johnny craves the future he sees in Mark sometimes. 

It's larger than life, almost too daring for how insignificant they look, at that point in time but it goes beyond the gloomy sense of onism that pervades over gigantic dreams, touching new heights because it dares to reach out where no else does. It lacks a long term planning, fueled by the passion they have today. But it excites Johnny, because he is good at strategizing and sometimes, he is so bored that he wants to pretend they are all preparing for a war to keep himself going. 

The prospect of debuting in the same group as Mark and the rest of these people is attractive to him, for various reasons that aren't all quite the same. The number of people in his list of ideal colleagues keep increasing, but he hears that the concept of the next group is limitless, very literally and he is hopeful that he will debut soon too. Mark might be there, or not. 

There are chances that they will end up in different units, or the same, because they were told that it will be a rotation system, though some units might be fixed after a while, but Johnny doesn't mind. 

They all could start out under the same umbrella label, doing their own things but in a few years, seeing how it usually goes for groups once they step into that established, even veteran positions, eventually their will be core groups and units, perhaps there will be chances to collaborate and have smaller subunits. He just has to wait it out while he gets ready, not just to sing and dance. 

Because eventually, there is so much more to it and he can't sit back when he finally gets the opportunity, which the company seems to not want to give him willingly at times. 

But he packed his bags to stay and debut when he did it for the last time, so he isn't going anywhere now. 

He considers the company as the negative aspect of a positive outcome in case his gamble of evading a possible debut to finish his normal high school education finally goes somewhat right. It's the people who will be his coworkers and dorm mates that have to be the positive aspect along with the result of being artists and entertainers. All things considered, he has been focusing on building a well thought-out, properly planned dynamics with the trainees and possible future group mates all these years, just in case. 

Sometimes, more than what you can do and your talent, it's how people perceive you and the way you become someone they can depend on. Yeah, that can make or break you. 

“But you look like shit, they won't be able to hide your dark circles if you go on like this, think about your future makeup artists dude,” he informs Mark, who stares up at him as if he is hallucinating, “Anyway, we are going out to eat.” 

Mark rolls his neck around, smiling at him, “Yeah sure, where are we going?”

Johnny turns around, already leaving, “you can choose today, the rest of us will be near the front gate.” 

“Really? Sweeeet,” Mark exclaims, always the happiest over dumb stuff, but hardly ever reacting to being praised and constantly elevated to a status by the company that the rest of them can't reach, “I’ll be down in five, wait for me dude.” 

“A second more and we'll leave with you.”

-•-

  
His pride and Mark have a history. 

It makes him wary of the kid, at first. Later, when it is a generally accepted fact that Mark looks up to him a lot, his pride is there, basking in the adoration instead.

A fickle bitch for sure, he shakes his head, unimpressed by it. Although, he would rather eat his own tongue before admitting that his pride is weak to the earnestness he gets cornered by on a daily basis.

But they say pride is a sin, and with one, all the others are ushered in too.

He ignores it all, because they have too much going on for him to sit around and contemplate the implication of it all. Well, at least till they reach the most controversial one, and then he can't.

You can hold your breath under water only for so long before you either have to come up or well, you choke and die. 

  
-•-

  
So once, in a hotel room in some city of whatever country, which he shares with Yuta, he attempts to explain it to him, for some strange reason he hasn't deciphered yet.

They are friends, yes. But he has a few other friends around, but Yuta seems to be the one his mind fixates on, whenever he thinks about this. 

He does consider that he is using the other man's slightly growing fascination with Mark to his own advantage, mixed in with Yuta's healthy sense of trepidation with anything involving Johnny, which means he is the least likely to run off his mouth about this in front of others, even by mistake. 

Johnny needs to get off his Mark Lee feelings somewhere and this seems like the best place, laying on the perfectly made bed in a foreign land, surrounded by the suspicious smelling smoke they'd get in trouble for if it was Korea. 

But most importantly he is beside a beautiful guy he will eventually be sucking off tonight, or the other way around, maybe both. They can try some mutually pleasurable positions to get off as quickly as possible so they can stop putting off the much needed sleep.

Yuta studies him with blank, unfocused eyes, after almost twenty minutes of Johnny just going on and on about his supposedly well thought out, deep analogy.

He really has pretty eyes though. Johnny likes them a lot. Big, round and dark, glistening, blinking up at him in a daze.

"So, our Mark, he is seducing you?" He concludes, snapping Johnny out of his musings about how much he likes him, his eyes. Wait, _his_ eyes?

_Yeah, his eyes. It's Yuta, fucking dumbass._

What the fuck. Talking about Mark is doing weird things to his brain, hallucinations and what not. He shakes his head, clearing the artificially induced haze so he can focus. 

"Hm, that sounds _so_ sexual." Johnny slurs out, dry tongue getting stuck on the roof of his mouth. "It's not, I swear. Sex isn't really even a part of it. No horny feelings were involved, at least from my side, or in general." He sighs, defeated. 

"For the most part." he relents, mind involuntarily running off to the pair of boxers he bought for himself and Mark, mostly as a joke and to ease off the tension that was seeping in between them during the North American leg of the tour. 

He had expected, well, not _that_. Flushed face, whining, reluctant acceptance of his gift, for sure but not Mark staring down at the soft piece of cloth.

" _yo_ , sweeet," he had said, stretching it in his hand, "woah, thanks hyung," he smiled, gaze shifty as he got up to go to his own room. 

"F'real my ass would look _good_ in it though." Mark muttered, before he slipped out of the door, shutting it firmly with a thud. 

  
-•-

  
"Well, isn't that like the last stage?"

"Huh?" Johnny frowns, bringing himself back to the present. 

Yuta smiles, sharp and closer than before, "I can sum up all that you just said in three to six words, do you want to hear it?" 

"I won't be surprised if you could," and there he goes, deflecting because oh no, no, no.

"Didn't you say Mark in any social situation is basically bread dipped in tea?" Johnny snorts, conjuring up the image in his head. Maybe they can dip him in some tea, and see how it goes. 

That won't even be the weirdest thing they have gotten up to in the last few years, especially when they get drunk. 

"And you helped him in weighing his head once, what's your point?" Yuta cracks a grin, suddenly pumped up as he slides closer, and Johnny adores how easily the other man gets excited about the oddest of things, "but no, really, it's true. Mark is a piece of bread, and then I am a cube of ice. Guess what? You'd be a metal block." He finishes, so excited that he starts thumping his feet on the bed. "How about that? It's scientific actually."

He gets no response. 

"Do you get it?" he asks Johnny, waiting for the light bulb to go off. Johnny just looks at him, for a few seconds and then he blows a breath, nodding his head, "I get it, why you want to be close to Mark out of nowhere, for sure. He will totally get your uh, special brand of intellect. Spare me, Nakamoto." 

"You were just spouting some religious metaphors minutes ago? Yah, I humor you all the time, come on."

Johnny quirks up an eyebrow, sliding closer, smirking when Yuta's gaze slides down to where his shirt falls open some more. 

"I wonder _why_ , huh." 

  
-•-

  
"At least it's not because you're scared now." he quips, later, tasting the other man on his tongue. 

"I was never scared of you." Yuta heaves out, wiping away the sweat sliding down his nose.

"Umhm, _sure_."

"Really, I was just taken aback by.. how intense you can , shit there, yes.. you can get. But it's not in a bad way." 

_I am afraid of your anger. But it's hot._

"You get so worked up, sometimes and my head stops working."

_I don't know how to act around you when you're pissed off._

"I won't hurt _you_ regardless of it." Johnny grunts out, jaw aching. "You know, right?"

"Johnny," a gasp, wet and quiet, "Of course, I do, oh, oh, _fuck, fuck, fuck."_

-•-

  
A senior takes him out on a date once a few years before his debut, not that it looks like one but it kind of is, he knows it. And he comes back from it with an orgasm, a kiss on his cheek and an advice that he keeps close to his conscience. 

"Don't show all your cards, ever. Don't even let people know they exist, especially to the ones closest to you." 

Johnny blinks, considering what is being said to him. It comes from experience, he can tell. 

"Emotional attachment is the biggest weakness in the industry, but they are unavoidable. We are only humans. You can't run away from people, so keep them so, so close that they can't even see you." Johnny's hair was pushed away from his face.

"Don't ever cry in front of others," was whispered urgently in his ear, and he was hugged like they will never see each other again.

"Don't share your real motivations with anyone, not unless you are hundred percent positive that they'd gladly die for you and readily hide bodies for you without a question." 

He hears about the news, that the company is under a lawsuit and someone left. Many people do though, before and after debuting. It's nothing uncommon, and so life goes on. 

Words always stay, at least. 

  
-•-  


Later, with the reality of the situation looming over everything, innocence eaten raw by weariness and disillusionment, the acceptance comes to him, that if and when he debuts, he would easily be one of the oldest members, if not the oldest.

He had never thought much of it before, but now he is forced to. He observes how it can be a double edged sword, age is a huge factor in this job it seems. 

It can either help you to be in the center, or make you a sidelined extra piece. 

At least he is American, so that's one less thing to worry about. 

But the rest. He needs to think. 

-•-

After Ten leaves, Johnny washes his coffee mug, very, very thoroughly for the second time that night. He goes to the bathroom afterwards, washes his face, and is very tempted to draw himself a bath for himself suddenly.

Perhaps, he should bring a glass of wine, he thinks as he closes the door of the bathroom when he walks out. He would play some music and chill idly for a few hours, he tells himself, as he takes the key of the other apartment and makes his way out of the door towards the lift. 

Yeah right, he pokes the button unnecessary force, _sure_. 

  
-•-

  
He unhurriedly walks to Mark's room, measured and controlled steps not giving away the turmoil in his heart. The guilt, he tastes it on his tongue, ash-like and bitter, refusing to go down his throat.

Or it could just be all the coffee that he chugged down like water, but he is in a dramatic headspace right now, so sue him. 

It's outrageous, being made to feel this way because he doesn’t get where he went wrong, or if he is wrong at all. For him to feel the regret clawing away at his conscience, does he have to be? Can't everyone be right and logical, valid in their own perspectives, and still feel guilt?

Because he is pretty sure he didn't do anything wrong, scratch that, he just didn't do anything. Point blank. 

On a closer inspection, his take on this whole strange thing has been passive. But shouldn't that be alerting, because Johnny can sit back and observe from afar when some shit going down doesn't involve him, or if he finds it worthless.

This involves him, it's definitely worth a lot too, he can't afford to mess this up.  
  
There's the possibility that his choice to not do anything is the issue, but can he be blamed? Are they even in a position where he can do whatever he wants, and still make it out of it without some damaging results? 

The time isn't right, the place isn't, and maybe it's stupid of them, to shake up something which is already so good, so right, and over what exactly? They were doing just fine, the best actually, before the world tour and a supergroup. Suddenly, they are second guessing everything, every word, every touch, every silence; it's more and they are dealing with it so badly. In fact, they are not dealing with it at all. They are just running circles around it, both refusing to move forward and be the one to touch it, take possession of it. 

What even is the point of feeling so horrible over something the other party won't even acknowledge. Maybe he is just getting swayed by Ten's way of seeing things, getting inveigled into giving unnecessary attention to a hypothetical situation he has just built up in his own head at this point. 

So, he stands there, right outside the door, and the seconds pass by with judging glares thrown his way. Seriously, what is this stupidity, why is he here at all. 

What for though? _Because you care, John_.

He did nothing. _That's the issue, darling_.

God, _shut_ up. Shut _up_.

He rubs a hand down his face.

Mark ate his weight in food that they technically should avoid, enjoyed his evening with his hyungs and obediently went to sleep, being cuddled and petted like the precious little, lovely boy that he has always been, the favorite child everyone dotes on, who is loved everywhere he goes, always stumbling around with his own brand of anxiety induced courage, creating his own permanent space everywhere — in hearts, minds and dreams, in mildly lit practice rooms, on huge shining stages, in the dark corners of someone else's room, under the blankets of many beds also apparently, as Johnny has been hearing recently— existing like an anomaly, the intersection point of multiple realities. 

_I don't need anyone, hyung._

  
-•-

  
He almost turns back, almost. Walking away, while he still can because he is that, he is the anyone, and so is everyone else. Because Mark Lee, is independent, self-sufficient and capable of dealing with everything by himself. 

Johnny should have learned years ago to back off, while he still had the opportunity. 

He still can, he informs himself, in case the very obvious is being ignored, deliberately on his part. At least no one can say he isn't self-aware. 

But then he hears it, the high pitched keen, the sob that follows it. 

Now, in some other situation, he would have assumed that Mark is utilizing his me time while the manager is away, but then Johnny knows how Mark sounds when he is getting off now, or well, when he is being made to if he has to be more specific. It's been a while, since Johnny walked in on that. 

Which just leaves one other possibility.

Ah, and Johnny knows how to help with that. So he just says a quick fuck you to himself and opens the door, because knocking won't get him a reply.

_And really, fuck you, weak bastard._

  
-•-

  
And seriously, _why_ is this so normal? 

He shouldn't be so used to this, getting to see Mark so small, curled up on himself like a flower not quite ready to bloom, hiding his face with his covered hands, fingers barely peaking from the sleeves of his threadbare grey hoodie.

Mark wasn't this, most of the time. This wasn't how he was known, definitely not how he wants to be seen if he can help it and that means, without a doubt, that he can’t. 

Mark was restless, reckless bravado and the insatiable need to form social bonds, dipped in natural awkwardness, deep seated fear of not matching up to other people's expectations and the ever-present paranoia about taking up too much space in places he assumes he is not welcomed in. 

It is quite inevitable that perpetually existing in such a state usually sways him up to maddening highs, Johnny concludes, thinking back to years of meltdowns that eventually leads to a boy climbing up every wall, carelessly sliding up to every person in his vicinity to hold mindless conversations that he would eventually forget.

Then Mark would be prowling on the stage like a caged wild animal with canines glinting, ready to pounce and chomp down on anyone who would dare to hold his gaze long enough and locking himself up in the studio to growl and spit as if he would break down every solid substance with the force of his words alone.

When he had no outlet, it was a disaster, in the form of brazen aggression, a push too hard, a bruising grip that leaves flaming trails behind in it's path. 

It's worrying for a time period, and it's actually Sicheng who dares to point it out. 

"You need help." he informed Mark, calm but judging. "Your energy is a mess." He frowns, dragging Mark away by the wrist. Mark doesn't protest, surprisingly. But then maybe not, Sicheng is sweet, and he can do bodily damage with an unnaturally scary precision. 

Mark comes out of it all with a slight crush on the guy, and an affinity for touching him a lot, which Sicheng somehow allows, much to their amusement and some good amount of whining from a few, who have been desperate for some love from either of then, or both. 

Then suddenly Mark has a knack for stretching his body in all kinds of strange, painful looking positions and he is scarily excellent at doing splits. 

“Oiii, I love yoga, dude.” He sighs dreamily with a strange smile, a dopey expression on his face after whatever workout he came back from, all washed up and pink. 

“Makes me feel so light, and good.”

“Right,” Johnny nods, a finger going round and round on the edge of his mug, “Congratulations, you finally found a way to _release_ some _stress_ , huh?” 

“Um,” Mark looks away, clasping his hands together as he gets up, his gaze shifty. “Yeah, okayyyyy I'm gonna — gotta go, uh yeah practice man. See ya.” 

  
-•-

  
However, Johnny was just as familiar with the deafening lows too, the outwardly stillness that only came when the whole of you is caught up in containing the turbulence on the inside. He never gave much thought to it; about which one he prefers to deal with the most, numb to the initial hesitancy of being so aware, so intimate with the construct and functioning of another existence that is not his own. 

So he is not surprised, when his body moves on autopilot, the strings deep in his guts pulled taut, dragging him forward, so unwanted and against his motto to never give up control, it makes his skin crawl. 

Before he can even process what he is doing, he finds himself sprawling up on the bed pushed to one corner of the room. It’s cramped and almost too small to hold the two of them. He wraps his arms around the warm body moving side to side, the quiet sobs being ripped out from a wet, clogged up throat making the mattress quiver underneath them. He locks his own hand around Mark's tightly closed fist hitting his own chest as if he is trying to make himself throw his heart up, spill it out and get rid of it. 

Johnny turns him around, forcing him on his back. 

Mark looks at him, face scrunched up and lips bitten deep red, eyes glassy. He gasps, shaking with the struggle to simply inhale, to breathe. 

Mark, the extremely independent prodigy, the fully capable extraordinaire, who never needs help, is right here underneath him, unable to breathe just by himself. 

The moments in which individual excellence fails you is always very ordinary. 

Johnny dips, aligning their chests, careful not to pull his whole weight down.

“Breathe, Mark," he whispers, forcing the quivering fingers caught up in his hand to unwind, pressing them against the bed, "calm down, hey. Mark, come on. Breathe with me, dude."

He takes in a few exaggerated, calm and deep breaths, hoping the boy would understand and follow. He keeps his other hand beside Mark's face, fighting the insistent urge in him that would make him do something stupid. 

The heat of him, it is reaching his skin even through the double layers in between them. He doesn't let himself linger on that thought.

"Hey," he says quietly, following the trail of a stray, unwelcomed tear drop finally making it's way down the very familiar face, eyes squeezed shut as if he is in pain.

He probably is.

Unexpectedly, it pisses him off.

It just isn't the easiest task to make him feel the way he is right at this moment, and that alone just adds to the ugliness erupting in him. A strange itch is taking over, and he feels his common sense flying out of the window, abandoning him to deal with this situation on his own.

No one can provoke his anger quite in the manner that Mark does. The irony of it being, that Mark is probably the only one who goes lengths to avoid it.

And perhaps, that bothers him more than anything else because it's difficult to avoid things you can't see. Blindness is what takes you down the inestimable pits, but if it is visible to your eyes, you would sidestep and save yourself. 

He crushes Mark's drenched hand in his own, smashing their palms together.

"Stop."

He tells the boy, louder than before and it sounds cold to his own ears, bordering on the verge of threatening. Perhaps it would be better to walk out and call Taeil or even Jaehyun. They would deal with a meltdown way better right now. 

The point of saving someone from drowning is lost if in the end you just walk them into a storm right after. 

"Don't start," he snaps, when he can tell from their proximity that Mark is calming down, breathing more controlled, but their faces are so close, he can make out the tell-tale signs of an incoming full blown crying session.

"I can't stop." Mark gasps, scrunching his nose up. 

"You're like this when you're frustrated." He grabs his face, and keeps surveying the way the clear drops descent down, his fingers itching. Then to his horror, his mouth waters, and he feels offended on his own behalf because really, _what the fuck?_ Who wants to drink tears? That's just bitter, salty liquid containing stress hormones and it's probably contagious. 

"What are you frustrated about, huh?" The words are spilling out, and he attempts to sound casual, but he is well aware that it's not working. "What are _you_ frustrated about?" 

"Dude, what's that s'ppose to mean?" Mark wipes his eyes, putting a hand on his chest to push him away but then a few more tears trail down stubbornly, making Johnny frown.

"You know." 

"No, I don't." 

Johnny shakes his head, "Never mind. What happened?" 

Mark appears as if he wants to pry, but after a brief moment of silence, he relented with a sigh, "Just wasn't feeling well dude, since the morning I guess." 

A lie. 

The other boy's eyes fill up again and again, and they keep leaking even though Mark doesn’t look like he is crying anymore. It's weird.

People do leak around him, from all kinds of places but that's not till his fingers or dick are wet too. This is not the sexy kind of leaking he would have preferred to see on a weekend. But Mark's eyelashes are clumped together, here and there, sticking down and some upwards, left and right, inward too, which makes the boy blink relentlessly and the tears keep leaking, it must be so, so uncomfortable. 

And Johnny is so, so losing it that he wants to get on the roof and attempt a flight to the moon. If he ends up a victim to the law of universal gravitation he cannot be blamed, and Newton is dead. 

"Dude, you're so fucking ugly right now," he snaps, dragging his palm against moist, heated skin, not paying any mind to the offended squeaks, the kitten-like scratches between his shoulder blades.

Perhaps if he did it fast enough, he would be able to rub this whole face out of existence, he muses viciously, but his hands are gentle, too steady for the way there is something banging against his ribcage, roaring to be let out. 

"Eew, you are so gross like this." 

"Johnny, stop! Yo what the fuck it hurts, stooop!" Mark groans, swatting his hand away. 

"Why are you _always_ crying around me, like every week? _What_ did I do to you?" 

"Dude, I cry like two times a year and that too when my eyes just start leaking, can't help it." says Mark, "just gotta, let it flow you know, let it all out." 

Mark's eyes widen then, at his own word, his cheeks going a deep shade of rosé. 

Johnny holds back on the teasing, and drags up the previous conversation they were having. 

"So, you weren't feeling well, huh?" He plays along, shifting on to his side but then he realizes how Mark is still grasping on to his shirt, hands tightening when the older man attempts to move away. 

Interesting. 

"Should've told me. You could have stayed and rested then, dude. Would have made things easier for me." Johnny watches him closely, the way his whole face goes taut, jaw tightening. 

As expected, he sighs _. I told you, Johnny._

He rolls his eyes.

"I wouldn't have bothered to add another seat in the reservation," he starts casually, "for Tennie." 

Mark stares, and stares then, scrutinizing and intense, before his gaze skips away abruptly, dancing all around the room. He clears his throat.

"Right." 

"Umhm." 

"Actually, I was in the washroom." Mark starts abruptly, out of nowhere, and that’s his way of saying he has no interest in continuing with the previous line of discourse. 

"Oh, I _told_ you in the cafe, dude you don-"

"I was thinking about you, actually," Mark cuts him off loudly, voice almost echoing in the silent space. “In there.”

"Um—" Johnny stops, because wait, _wait_. "In the washroom?" 

"I was about to have a breakdown." Mark looks away, knuckles skimming down Johnny's back suddenly, making him go taut but he wills himself to relax.

Mark doesn’t even know that he’s touching people most of the time, when he actually does it. For someone so self-conscious about personal space, he isn’t the best at differentiating between what is appropriate physical contact, and what can be taken as suggestive. 

"Because," Johnny lifts an eyebrow, and points at himself. “ _Me_?”

"Wait, because you did _that_ in front of Ten? It's okay, dude." Johnny nods solemnly, his tone assuaging, if not a tad sarcastic, "Definitely not even in the top ten most embarrassing things you have done recently." 

"So," Mark stomps on, pinkish hue splattered high on his cheeks, "I thought, no, no it can't happen right now," he steals a glance at Johnny, "I gotta avoid it, right? uh, can't lose it in the shower so, and yeah um, I just started to touch myself?"

Mark feels the older man going still, his muscles tightening underneath Mark's touch.

"But I was thinking about you, and I couldn't stop." says Mark, eyeing the beauty under Johnny's chin intently. He lifts his other hand, thumb coming up to rest against it, and he rubs it harshly as though he could erase it if he did it with enough persistence. 

"So I just came, like really hard, with you in my head,” Mark’s thumb skims down, hooking on to the dip of Johnny's shirt. 

"But I was still feeling kinda, I don't know. It was just so, like frustrating," Mark continues when he gets no reaction, "I felt empty."

"Great," Johnny bites out, his brain slowly disintegrating, "existential crisis after a jerk off session." 

Mark grasps his shirt, fists it desperately, "Johnny? I was feeling _empty_." He shifts, a thigh coming to slot in between the older man's legs. 

Johnny grasps the pillow tightly, burning holes in the space beside Mark's head, and he involuntarily leans in.

"Right." He breathes out. 

"So I just— yeah I thought maybe it would help if—uh, if I put a few fingers inside myself?" 

Johnny hums, continuously nodding his head. His neck might be as broken as his mind, and he imagines his head cracking, sanity trickling down and slowly evaporating in thin air, abandoning him forever.

He pointedly tries not to think about anything else, because he gets the feeling that he is actually being challenged not to. Mark's thighs are thick, and get put through a lot on a daily basis, what with him skipping from one practice room to another, and then another if his luck is in one of those moods.

It's hard not to. And _it's_ getting _hard_.

"So?" Johnny asks, because what else can he do? Put Mark on his front and fuck the living shit out of him? As if.

And in his defense, he hasn't touched his dick in days, so what if it does fill up with some grinding, big deal. "It worked?" 

"Well, yeah. Um— I came? again? So, I mean maybe because, I— I was still thinking of," Mark trails off, poking at the top button of Johnny's black shirt.

"Me?" Johnny finishes it for him.

"Yeah, I— uhm, I couldn't stop. But it made me feel weird, you know like, haha, kinda guilty I guess." Mark confesses, fingers trailing down after he's done opening the first button. He jolts up suddenly, pressing the tip of his nose in the hollow of Johnny's collarbone and the older man almost backs away. Almost. 

"And still, man I was still, um— and then I remembered something from a week back actually, about you and I just, I c-came like so hard." Mark pants slightly, pushing his thigh up harder, a shudder washing through him when Johnny's cock grows, heavy and thick. 

"And I—" he gasps, breath hot on Johnny's bare skin and there is a current of potent heat building between their bodies, the kind that makes you want to move, to fuck into something, anything hot and tight enough, "I came, um— I mean, back… here and I realized how I was still feeling, kinda..”

" _Empty_?" Johnny asks, his voice emerging from somewhere beneath the surface of the sea he doesn't remember jumping in.

"Um, Yeah? I think, uh— ha ha it's, it's because of the—the thing last week."

"What?" 

"You wanna know?" 

Johnny stays silent, checking out for a moment when Mark pushes up against the base of his length, the thick vein running up from there pulsating due to the pressure. It's borderline painful and his jeans aren’t made for him to get erections in.

"I'll tell you, hyung but, can you like —uh, help me a little first?" Mark urges, hiding his face in Johnny's chest. He yanks at the end of Johnny's shirt still tucked in, freeing it just so he can push his fingers up. The calluses on his fingertips ghost lightly against the coarse hair strands beneath his navel.

Johnny goes there then, and thinks about the last time when Mark went on his knees. It was not very long after he and Taeyong came back from their tour in the States. They were in Johnny's room then.

_oh, wow—I don't, hey I don't have this? will it, um— when did yours grow though? yoo, that's like a lot, um all the way down, uh I'm gonna shut up yeah-_

Mark was fascinated to say the least.

He is pulled back to the present by Mark, who tugs lightly on the hair caught between his digits now. It makes Johnny thrust forward, finally losing to the need to just rut and get rid of the building pressure, need like liquid fire travelling in waves up and down his frame.

"Johnny?" Mark pulls away, gaze latching on to where the older man is biting down on his lower lip.

" _What_?" He growls, hitting the pillow as he dives down, burying his face in the space beside Mark's head.

"Hyung," he whispers, heated flesh of his lips grazing against the shell of Johnny's ears.

"Please, please cum inside me?"

  
  
-•-

  
Minhyung and Youngho were close, like the red planet and the doomed moon encircling it. It were up to those who saw them in motion to conclude who was going to be shattered and who was meant to deliver the destruction. 

  
-•-

  
Johnny and Mark are close, by choice, because they worked together towards it, and it wasn't all just natural and easy. No matter how they were perceived from the outside, there wasn't anything cosmic and perfect about the way in which they fit together.

What they both did have was tenacity and a severe need to just keep trying because they both wanted it, and it worked against Johnny's favor sometimes. 

They both wanted some things, that they found the most of in each other.

Any relationship, with at least two people involved is due to needs that are most easily fulfilled in the presence of each other or due to each other. That's the base, always. If anyone says or thinks otherwise, it's a lie they are telling to the world to make themselves look better or it's a lie they are telling themselves, too caught up in their own delusive fantasies. 

Johnny keeps his people at a distance, out of his own instinctual need to stay hidden, but the way of maintaining that distance varies, unique like the people he deals with. Some are kept in line with just a fence, some need barbed wires, he builds up a brick tower penetrating the sky for special cases, a transparent slab of glass for others and then there is the depth of several oceans in between himself and a few of them. 

And then there is Mark. 

Mark is close. So, so close, Johnny can smell him, see every imperfection on him, he can feel the heat emitting from him and he hears every word he says. The words that he keeps to himself, Johnny reads them, written all over his face and actions, smothered in his eyes and always bitten down, crushed before they can escape him.

Johnny doesn’t miss any of it.

It is an invisible wall between them, constructed from clear, razor-like strings, running horizontally parallel and drawn taut on both sides with long poles of caution. The serrated edges that they both have developed over the years clash in between the empty spaces, imbricating over and over again, and it hurts.

Sometines, the impact is too much for the fragile threads, and they snap, leaving jagged scars on the skin of their recklessness. They bleed and bleed, scratching the cuts of limerence, the impossibilities they flirt with; the _we can't_ , the _could-never-be,_ the _not-meant-to-be,_ the _if_ and _but_ , the _just_ _once_ , the _maybe_. 

  
-•-

  
Mark is temptation, to him.

_'Youngho hyung,' whispered a very young, unsure Mark, sacred utterances from a Sunday mass circling in his mind like vultures, 'um- I was gonna ask you, I totally forgot before, hah ..but like, yeah- so, uh what do you think about the seven deadly sins?'_

Ironically. 

Mark, who believes in a higher power looking after them all, guiding them, keeping a track of all their errors, awaiting the end with a capital E of it all, to deliver the final verdict on their fate after years of wrong-doings, keeping a track of their good deeds that can be used as barter for negotiation. One less second of burning in the lake of fire, one less century of being tortured while strapped on a bed of nails, perhaps.

He has seen it all, depicted in every form of art available form him to research on.

It is quiet hilarious to him in all honesty, how most of human race is apparently set up to end up in some afterlife chamber of sadism.

Which leaves him contemplating why people tend to turn their nose up in disgust, at the thought of others enjoying pain. Isn't it quite logical, and befitting that one would develop an affinity to all kinds of pain, a solid life-long preparation for what is supposed to come after it?

But you wouldn't catch him saying such things out loud in front of a crowd. 

After all, humans can hardly go on for a day without committing some form of act that has already been written off as sin, is what he tells Mark, thoughts flying back to a stupidly heated debate with a few classmates over a fictional genius who sold his soul to a troop of the final boss in the land of damnation. 

The only tragedy I see in this drama is that the protagonist is horrible at striking a deal, really weak negotiation tactics there. 

The aghast, weirded out looks that he had received didn't do much to deter his opinions. He was too used to hearing people preachify literally every existing concept and narrative, and he bulldozed his way right through it all on a daily basis.   
  
And then, there were a few other impressionable memories imprinted on his very being now; the fragile relationship he has had with all forms of authority throughout his life and his longest battle, the most harrowing struggle; coming to terms with his greed, and accepting it for what it is. The building block of his nature, an irreplaceable part of him, the fuel that has kept all of him going; pushing, forcing and breaking through to make his own space, digging a place for himself even in places he wasn't supposed to fit in.

There was just so much to him, so much of him and he had a lot to give, so how can he fit small, limited places unless he works to add more room for himself. Sometimes, he just needs to break in and stretch out tight spaces, expand it with force and shove right in. 

He just wants to fit, but for it to become a reality, he needs more. 

But it's a sin to be too hungry, too greedy. 

In that sense, he lucked out to have the most amazing, supportive parents a teenager could have. Not many children are told that it's natural to have ambitions you want to prioritize over simple acceptance of whatever is given to you. You don’t have to make others happy through pretentious obedience and it's perfectly normal to stick with independent thought process that doesn't match with that of the adults around you. 

So what if he always wants more? So what if he craves better, the finest, the most valuable? He always strives to be more, more than what is expected of him, more than what he has always been limited to in every aspect of his life. 

He wouldn't have anything, if it weren't for the bottomless pit inside him, the hunger that needs to be catered to for him to not feel hollow, like an empty shell of nothingness. 

He is pretty sure that it counts as some form of sin, but he would worry about it when he actually ends up in hell. Truthfully, he is skeptical, cynicism colors all his worldly perspectives. 

But for Mark's sake, for the faith he has, he does wish to manifest a heaven, willing for it to exist despite his lack of belief, not in the existence of a God itself but the use of there being one.

Johnny doesn't have the time to contemplate what will come for him after, he is more concerned with what will come an hour later, after they release a song, he has to think about the next day, when he has to charm or right up intimidate his way out of being made to wear things for recordings that does not compliment the cuts of his body, his preferred fits already given to the ones with the typical idol physique.

He has to plan for next month, when he has to coerce the producers into letting him write more, and actually getting his lines accepted for a change. He is going to get his credits for composing and producing too, because he does and it's just a matter of persistence shown to the right people and power play with the difficult ones, he will eventually get the upper hand, he will get his beats and compositions cleared for use in final versions of their tracks. 

He also has to prepare for the coming years, systematically sowing the seeds of growth in every beneficial field that can help him climb up the ladder. 

God and everything else has to wait. 

Perhaps he feels guilty, so it is just a way of compensating, when he wishes that Mark's faith will be validated. He is, after all, the source of many temptations Johnny has entertained over a cup of coffee in public cafes, not ready to take them home just yet. 

Maybe he has tainted Mark, undermining his chances at a shot in heaven. 

The younger man doesn't have the build of someone who'd make you want to commit sins, at first. But that's the nature of it, the deceit, the unassuming and harmless front, sweet smiles and sweeter eyes.

Temptation is there, everyday, living with you, in you. You just don't realize it till its too late, so very late. 

One day, there is a young kid sitting close to you, asking inane questions, taking your word for everything, wanting your opinion on everyone before getting close to them. And then you make the mistake of blinking, and you find a young man sliding up to you, digging holes in the sleeve of your shirt, telling you about the first girl he kissed, the first boy who sucked him off, the new trainee he finds cute and ' _johnny, um, is it okay to makeout out with I've played video games with, like, just once?'_

You go through all the stages of it in blind obliviousness, and before you know it you are standing on the edge, staring at the frightening abyss ready to sweep you away from everything you knew and had made yourself comfortable with, so used to it that the mere thought of tipping over and losing yourself in the darkness of the unknown staring back at you, leaves you holding on to the end, weary and terrified as you slip away. 

  
-•-

  
"It's different for everyone, because we all didn't come from the same place, or we live in places that have very unique religious histories," Ten tells a brand new fifteen years old Mark, who seems ready to take down notes in the impromptu philosophy lecture. 

Johnny sits on the other bed, peeking in from outside with no more that a mild current of interest. 

"I mean, most belief systems that originated in this part of the world have more similarities, different from the ones that were brought here from the other side." 

_Where you came from,_ is left unsaid.

"Back at home, people believe life is cyclical, time isn't linear but it goes on and on infinitely," Ten traces circles in there, " Yeah, every other day is a new one, you can't go back to yesterday. But everyday, you wake up with the sun, live throughout it, the moon comes out, you sleep but the next day you wake up, and the same sun is back again like yesterday.”

When Mark doesn’t reply, Ten continues. 

“I personally think it's like a spiral, we trace the same path again and again but we keep moving, either up or down but it's unending. We don't have an End. Every end is a beginning." 

Mark's gaze is fixed on some random, invisible spot in the space between them. 

"So," Ten hums, "I guess we don’t have the whole concept of heaven and hell, god and devil thing. We have gods, even death, destruction and sex and knowledge have gods, because it's all important. It's all, well, experiences for the soul to learn. You keep learning, you keep coming back, life after life till you are ready to go back to," Ten studies his nails, a serenity to him that they rarely see, "to where we all came from, the god, the higher consciousness. Whatever it is." 

Ten grins then, "It's not uncommon in families where people follow two religions too. Isn’t that cool? Always gotta keep your options open, what's wrong with having the best of all worlds." 

Mark is quiet, but it's not that strange at all. Mark can go very quiet sometimes. 

Johnny thinks a gate has been opened somewhere, and Mark is just surprised that he wasn't aware that it existed. 

He imagines Mark would want to go in and check out whatever he finds there, so he leaves him to it. 

  
-•- 

  
Mark's faith isn't blind.

It doesn't make him fearful. It's inquisitive, curiosity beyond comprehension. In the castle of religion, some stay trapped in it's basement, blind in darkness, bereft of perspective and limited to a narrow space beyond which nothing else exists.

Mark stands on top of the highest tower, visible to all. He sees everything, takes in the vast, endless seas and the ancient mountains, studies the skies and feels the air. He wants to know it all, the unexplored, the unknown. Nothing truly daunting out there deters him. He is ready to jump in the water and swim his way to the other undiscovered end, he would let the tornados take him away on adventures no one returns from.

He would let the dragons carry him away to undiscovered places that would transform his perspective, would allow him to see things from a new point of view and usher in transcendental reformation for his soul.

Mark's faith is a free bird, Johnny collects the fluttering feathers it leaves behind to study their construct at most. He has no interest in catching the bird itself. 

It's of no use to him. 

  
-•-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gone - Alex Isley  
> Lullaby - UMI
> 
> I think the whole characterizations is fueled from all aspects of their natal charts that's it djdj lmao anyway I hate editing my own stuff.


	3. Rise: Mars In Scorpio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark flutters his lashes, voice muffled against his arm, "then I kept pushing you— to get you to fuck me all the way in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: conversation about future consent play, light bondage, minor feminization and degrading language, barebacking, mentions of racism. so yea don't like don't read ig.
> 
> Safe - Sagun  
> Hands off me - Chiiild  
> Rumours - Sabrina Claudio Ft. Zayn  
> Feel It - Jacquees

"Can you repeat that again?"

"Can you please cum.. _in_ _me_?" 

"I'm— _in_ you?" Johnny stared at Mark incredulously, ready to roll away and walk out on the sudden madness, but he is hindered by the younger man's reflexes, a leg swiftly hooked around Johnny's waist.

"Okay. All right no, we talked about this. We've already decided, I’m not fucking you. Not anytime soon."

"You mean _you_ decided.."

But Johnny won't have it. This is absurd and he wouldn't know where to start about the utter impracticality of it, regardless of how is dick feels about this.

"No fucking for you," Johnny punctuated each word with a jab of his finger against the other boy's chest, going for the hardened nipples to make it more painful, "unless you want to go around hobbling all the fucking week during your schedules, recording, practice? Hello? For _three_ groups, did you forget?”

Because the baby group can’t go on without the baby prodigy now, can it? So that will be another fixed unit Mark is now a part of. 

Mark scrunched up his nose but didn't let go of Johnny, straining his thighs to keep him as close as possible. He said nothing, twisting his puckered lips to the side and his own digits moving in circles around the birthmark on the older man's waist. 

"And wow unsafe sex, huh? You're _dirty_."

"Nah, I'm clean," Mark countered quickly to that, "you know like— _clean_ , clean yeah, and dude I literally haven't done this before plus you can't knock me up anyway."

Johnny spluttered, mouth falling open. "Mark _Lee_."

"I have a point though, right?"

"That's _so_ not the point," Johnny shook his head, a groan escaping him when Mark jostled his other leg— a slow, heavy drag of tight, heated flesh against Johnny's cock trying to burst out of his jeans, “you're making no points right now dude, shut up.” 

Fuck, this is obstructing his common sense or he would have been out of here by now.

"Then _what_ is the point?" Mark prodded at him almost testily, obviously an attempt to get a rise out of him, "Why are you—dude, I'm not—"

Now, Johnny can't allow that.

"Mark, don't be dumb. Remember when you took three fingers that _one_ time? You refused to sit down around people for a week."

"Well," Mark looked away at that, coughing slightly, "so yeah— I'm sensitive."

"I'm sensitive." Johnny mocks in a high pitched tone, rolling his eyes.

"But I don't mind, um you know, some pain," Mark mumbles out, digging the nail of his thumb in the flesh of Johnny's index finger, dragging it down to press it into the thick, throbbing veins running down the back of Johnny's hand.

"It won't be just _some_ pain, stupid." Johnny hisses back, gaze still stuck on Mark's thumb, moving in tight little circles. He licks his lips, smacking them together, the urge to reach down and adjust himself becoming insistent. He grabs Mark's hand instead, clenching his fingers roughly.

“I could work you open for an hour before I break you in and you'll still need a few days off."

Johnny bites his lip when it hits him like a whack on the head. Mark was fingering himself. These fingers, they were shoved up his ass probably just minutes ago, and he was thinking about Johnny while he was at it.

"Add a few more days for yourself," he says, voice tight, "Since you're so _sensitive_."

"I've heard," Mark croaks out, his voice deepening with every passing word, "about that— I mean, uh..”

Oh, and isn't that just so convenient. Mark has heard, and will probably keep hearing a lot of things. After all he is always surrounded by, and is rather close to a bunch of people who must have a lot to say about Johnny.

"Right, you've heard," he nods, face blank, "of course."

He worries then, about what all they have been saying to Mark. What does he know about Johnny's... interests and habits, and how much of it aligns with what Mark wants.

"Dude, I didn't ask you to fuck me though".

Johnny breaks out of his reverie, blinking at the other in disbelief.

"Excuse you?"

"I said give me your cum, no fucking needed for that, yeah?"

Johnny stops thinking then, head going empty for real. He is not even going to try and process that in words with his mind already conjuring up senseless, obscene imageries to go all with whatever insanity the younger man is spewing.

The nasty voice in his head is just repeating, 'give me your cum' like a broken record, and he shifts, yielding, as his hand slides down by itself without his permission. He feels up the imprint of his girth on the ragged texture of the jeans, pulling it down slightly so that his balls would stop aching with the agonizing need to just unload at this point. 

But then the rational, cautious side of his senses protest, concerned about the purpose of it all even with want thrumming in his veins.

Mark has done a lot of things with many people. He is inquisitive, and stubborn. He always attracts interest, and doesn't mind requesting for some help here and there. But despite it all, getting properly fucked is something he hasn't undertaken just yet, due to reasons Johnny may or may not be aware of.

Which is very typical of them, because Johnny knows way more than he should when it comes to Mark. The older man is more than happy to scourge out every trivial detail about people around him, just in case he needs some fodder for future bargain but with the younger man, he doesn't even try.

He is always there, telling him everything he would need to pull some strings for, if it was anyone else but Mark.

He doesn't know if it's a good thing or not.

Johnny has never been any of Mark's firsts. Mark already had a hyung, friends, best friend, people he respected, and then colleagues too. He even ended up debuting before Johnny. 

All these years, Mark threw him around from one position to another depending on his age, situation and how he was feeling about the older man in the moment. Johnny let him. He never had much to say about it, opinion firmly kept under wraps and he was never asked about it either.

How Mark saw him had nothing to do with what Johnny felt about him anyway.

For his other firsts, it was a conscious decision on Johnny's part to not get dragged in those either and at some point in time, Mark figured it out. He never brought it up, and Johnny was grateful for that. 

He can't figure out how he will put it into coherent words that something about the younger man perceiving him as a safe place, and then hoping to experiment and try new things with him, regardless of weather Mark would end up liking it or not just didn’t sit right with him. Mark wanting to do something for the first time and approaching him for it doesn’t mean he wants to do it with the older man specifically, or wants him in general. 

That’s weirdly the deal breaker for Johnny, as far as sex goes. 

Mark just wants to try new things every week and the other man is a comfortable presence that is close by. Johnny wants to be wanted and can’t compromise on it. 

So later when Mark started checking out all other firsts on his list of stuff he was convinced that he should be done with before he is twenty, Johnny made himself scarce, walking backwards right out of every room and situation he could see going towards the twilight zone he refused to be a part of.

He was there for the aftermath though. He was there to listen to it all. He watched Mark internalize and process each experience before the younger moved on to other things he wanted to give a try.

Then came the whatever which led them here, when Mark jumped from casually aiming to gather new experiences to wanting be an expert on how all aspects of sex works. Johnny didn't escape it all unscathed in the end, but he is still disciplined enough to not ever be the one Mark tries new things with.

Of course, unless it is something totally silly and frivolous like showing him how not to look like an immature when he tries to flirt or the most subtle ways to get numbers from his crushes.

It gives everyone a laugh at Mark's expense, Johnny holds on to his restraint and no one gets hurt. 

So this is actually being sprung up on him without any warning, and his resistance has been folding under Mark's relentlessness to an unreasonable extent lately, especially since he came back from the tour.

One day, Johnny is going to sit Ten down and ask about whatever the fuck was happening during their stay in North America. 

"Why do you want that?" He whispers, stare heavy with the craving igniting in his guts. Mark peeks at him, lashes sweeping up and he smiles, just slightly when he thinks that the older man is considering giving into the lunacy. He wets his lips, digging the front teeth down into the thin flesh.

"Just— I'll tell you. But first," Mark digs the ball of his foot in the older man's back, and receives a reflex response with a thigh pushing into his sensitive dick. He already came twice by himself, which makes it borderline painful for him to have a heavy weight pressing down on it.

"Come on, just the head," Mark coaxed, "dude, lemme jerk you off and then, uh— or you can, no pressure but— just give me an inch," Mark begged, heavy breathing giving away his desperation. His eyes were wide; deer-like, so innocent. So sweet.

That's the look he put on when he wanted an extra serving of something he shouldn't have, when he wanted to do something but was too hesitant so he would ask one of them to do it first, when he jotted down something that could be used up in one of their songs, and came to Johnny to ask how it sounds, how it flows, if it was okay, as if Johnny is the one with the most writing and composing credits.

Mark has always been such a sweet, sweet boy. He is unbelievably competent at thawing away any kind of resistance thrown in his direction.

Johnny knows that from experience, he was the one Mark practiced it on the most, most likely just because it was a challenge for him.

If Johnny had given in from the very start, maybe Mark would have moved on by now. 

It's not something he is proud of, but Johnny selfishly doesn't want that. Never did. 

-•-

When Taeil joins them, Johnny had consciously settled into his role, the one which is constructed as a compromise between how he wants to be seen and what the company wants him to be marketed as.

It's fascinating to say the least, how they interact. One of the newest trainees and he is older than Johnny in age, which is rare at that time period.

Then there is Johnny, who feels ancient on his best days, like an immaculate castle looming over the continuously revamping configuration of the settlements around it, discarded and forgotten on the horrible ones, the abandoned ruins they build new cities on.

The way he takes to Taeil, somehow makes him think of how Haechan imprinted on Mark. After the initial hesitancy in their interactions, the older falls into the basic age hierarchy, and Johnny is more than happy to go along with it, except for the minor revolts here and there to keep things interesting. He speculates that they might end up in the same unit, which brings about a feeling of contentment knowing that there will be at least one person older than him.

It is not the expectations, the roles and responsibilities that he is worried about. He is more than capable to fill in every position, but the manner in which the oldest members in groups get stereotyped, the way they are perceived and how they are restricted to act a certain way troubles him. He would take being somewhere in between, but you can't have everything according to your own preferences.

It could have been worse, he tells himself. He could have debuted earlier, and end up being the youngest in a group. Now that's a nightmare he is more than happy to have avoided.

For now, he is fine with having Taeil around, who is adorable, kind of scrawny and loves to shout at Johnny with his fingers raised in the air, pointing at Johnny's nose as he tells him how disrespectful of a brat the younger is.

Much to his amusement, everyone loves to tease Taeil but the man never responds back by pulling the hyung card on them. That one is reserved for Johnny almost exclusively. It definitely makes him feel some type of way, to be honest. He likes feeling unique, the exception in something to someone. That’s a turn on. 

He wants to interrogate the older boy at times, but then he thinks that there is no point in making a big deal out of it. Johnny has an inkling to what it could be about, maybe he already knows to an extent. 

People tend to draw out the most significant superiority certificate available to them, when they have that instinctual, primitive need to curb someone who seems threatening to their position and authority. He has seen enough of it, but this is a more mellow and delicate version that makes Taeil appear so charming in his eyes.

"How do you do that? You're so loyal to your routine," the older boy asked him when Johnny came back from the gym one night, "you never miss a day. I need some motivation, I think."

"Well, I do it for myself. It's not for... you know. It's not because I want to be an idol."

Johnny shrugged, threading fingers through his wet hair. He got up from the couch, stretching his arms.

"Also, Hyung," he starts, twisting to his right to look down, meeting Taeil's curious gaze, "I have this severe need to be in absolute control, of _everything_. Since that's unreasonable, I divert all that desire towards controlling myself instead."

He bends down, getting a hold of his bag and doesn't break the eye contact, "Makes up for good self-discipline."

He ruffles the older man's hair, shirking away when he swats at him.

"Yah," squawks Taeil, "don't touch my head, you bastard." 

Johnny giggles behind his hand, "Goodnight, Hyung! See me in your dreams."

"Yeah, I'll punch you there."

"That's why it's called a dream, hyung."

"Fuck off, asshole."

How can you hold others in your grasp and implement your authority when you have no control over yourself. 

-•-

He makes up his mind, the switch in his head flicked on with only a nominal shift in body language to show for it. 

"Let go," he orders, but Mark wouldn't release him, tightening the hold of his leg around Johnny.

"Mark," he warns gruffly, grabbing the younger boy's calf to yank it away, "You can't keep me here but I can cause some major damage to get myself away."

Johnny tapped Mark's knee. 

"Or you can do as I say and let me go." 

Mark frowns, deep creases appearing between his eyebrows. He gives in eventually, worried eyes pinned on to Johnny's face.

He struggles to hold on to the older man, fingers slippery and hot against the back of his hand as Johnny gets up abruptly, walking away from the bed towards the door. 

"Johnny—" panic brims up in Mark's voice. "Dude—yo wait. I was just kidding, for real Johnny— Please," he whispers, voice giving up at the end.

"Johnny.”

Mark pleads, trailing off when Johnny gets his hand on the door knob. 

He opens the door once, shuts it back firmly, locks it from inside with a snick and shakes the knob, just to make sure.

He can't have someone walking in on them this time, and he wouldn't want someone to walk in on them like Johnny did once, when Mark was being enlightened with the wonders of having a few digits pushed inside his ass. 

He stands still and waits for the awareness to fill in, for it to sprinkle the space between them with the thrill, the presentiment of something that is about to happen. And it does, leaving Mark gasping and then it's just them, breathing in silence.

“Hyung...”

Johnny whips around then, hands reaching in his pockets to take out his watch and rings. He places them on Mark's table, sidestepping the baby blue towel on the floor that he had missed before, too caught up in the boy who threw it there most probably. After he came back from the bathroom where he got off while he thought of Johnny, to abate a meltdown that he was about to have due to him as well. And apparently it didn’t work, considering the state in which he found Mark. 

Mark sits there on the bed, and his lips quiver— shaken from the harsh emotions due to his presumption that Johnny was leaving him like this, or it could be the shock due to the sudden turn of events, always so easily affected by everything the older does.

He twists his head to the side, eyes lowered, all bravado abandoning him suddenly. Tugging anxiously at the dark bed cover is all that he can do. 

"Take out that bottle from under your pillow," Johnny monotones, and Mark startles violently. He doesn't ask why the other man knows where he keeps the lube for easy access, Johnny doesn't bother with an explaination either, “put it on the other side of the bed for Hyung."

Mark does what he says with an alarming urgency, fumbling hands dipping under his pillow to snatch it out, dropping it on his other side like his skin is set on fire. 

"Come here," Johnny beckons him closers, and Mark moves as if possessed by the deep cadence of it, lurching forward on his knees to be near him, face to face with the erection he gave Johnny in the first place. Now he can't even bring himself to look at it, “undo the rest of the buttons for me, will you? Quick."

Mark stares up, perplexed for an instant before he gets it. His fingers twitch, gaze avoiding his when he reaches out obediently to do what he is being told to. 

"Now, let's go back a little," Johnny swiftly unbuckles his belt, and Mark flinches away from the rattling noise of it, his expression still pervaded with disbelief at precisely getting what he was pushing for just a hot minute ago, “do you want to say that to me again?"

"What do you want your Hyung to do? Repeat it for me, go on."

A tense moment of absolute silence, when Mark chews on his lower lip and stays mum. 

" _What_ do you want me to do?" Johnny pushed him some more, nearly apathetic for how delicate the circumstance is. 

"Go on, _say_ it."

"Want you—, " Mark's voice cracks, disappearing in thin air, and he has to start all over again, "Hyung to cum inside me—" 

He stops when Johnny quirks up a brow.

"In my ass, I mean. Um, yeah."

He exhales, rectifying himself quickly, nearly jerking his hands away when he is done with the last button.

Johnny halts him halfway.

"And _why_ should I?" The older man clasps Mark's wrists with one hand, gripping them firmly.

Mark's breath hitches, dark pupils dilating when he lifts his gaze up, a misty sheet of frantic want placed over his bashfulness.

"Don't you have people lined up to help you out with these things?" inquires Johnny, frowning in faux confusion and a protesting whine leaves the other boy. 

"Want me to call one of them?" He offers darkly, glancing at the closed door. The acidity in his inflection echoes, falling on his own ears as a warning.

_Don't get too swept away. Don't give in more than you already have._

"You— no, hyung," Mark groans, shaking his head frantically, "I want, I mean it needs to be _you_ , uh yours. I mean—"

Johnny raises the metallic buckle of his belt suddenly, brushing it against the other boy's wrist, observing the fine hairs on his skin stand up on ends, gradually spreading and breaking into a full-body shudder. A delicate, wounded noise slips out along with it, but Mark doesn't pull away from the older man's grasp. 

Johnny needs his straining cock out of the dumb, ridiculously tight jeans.

"Such a sweet, little freak," Johnny purrs, his face blank, "very specific about your kinks, aren't you?"

"So, you just really want my cum flooding your ass, and that's it?"

Johnny twists his wrist, wrapping the belt around it and reaches out, pressing the leathery texture against the apple of Mark's cheek, which makes him close his eyes with a sigh. 

"Yes,” the younger nods earnestly, though he flushes visibly, “please, Hyung.”

"Even though you are technically, in name at least, still a virgin?" Johnny knows, but he himself doesn't care much about the concept of it, and finds it overly dramatized beyond belief. Yet, he is reluctant to assume stuff on the other boy's behalf. Though he has his suspicions, but still.

Being Mark's first for anything is the kind of responsibility he might not be able to handle with enough emotional maturity, so he wonders what Mark is thinking.

He is well aware that this can't be an impulsive, in the moment kind of a deal. That's not how Mark does things. So he wants to dive in that head of his and understand why they are doing this.

They have never discussed it but Mark seems to be aware, at least to some extent, that Johnny hasn’t been evading this whole fucking a virgin thing just because Mark fits forty hours of work in a single day and can’t afford slacking off just because his asshole is left gaping and his already sensitive bones ache in all kinds of places that even twelve hours of going at a dance routine doesn’t inflict. 

"Yes." Mark says, firm about this even if he is shaking like a water droplet clinging to the edge of a leaf under heavy downpour. 

"And even though you're aware I don't really do it raw?”

"Yes, —" Mark agrees, before he catches himself. But it's too late, "I mean, uh I am not asking you to, like _do_ me though, for real, real? Uhm. You don't gotta go in too deep so it's not really.. Uh actually fucking.. ?"

Deep red surges up the younger boy's neck, and he stares at Johnny, pleading slightly. 

"Right, yeah," Johnny shakes his head, "you're just asking me to make your ass all sloppy and wet with my cum, that's totally the safer alternative."

Mark's cheeks heat up more, and they glow, light gleaming off them. Johnny realizes with a start, that it's due to the tears from before and his little face is still dewy as a result.

At least he is not crying anymore, Johnny nods.

"Well, today is your lucky day. I’m willing to give you what you want, only because you weren't feeling well but still you endured it and went out with me," Johnny announces casually, playing along with Mark's lie, "So accommodating, aren’t you?"

Mark nibbles down on his lower lip, sucking on it harshly before he let's it go. 

"Your hands," Johnny grunts, "I'm gonna tie them up."

That gets Mark's attention, his lips parting slightly. He nods, a little too quickly and then stops, staring down onto his lap. 

"It's a weak knot, you can pull your hands out easily," Johnny instructs him, as he loops it around Mark's wrists, "If you get uncomfortable with whatever happens and want me to stop at any point, just free your hands. Understood?”

"Okay, yeah.”

Mark responds, in such a manner that it leaves him frowning, not sure if the other boy is processing what is being relayed. 

Johnny glances at him pointedly, waiting for him to meet his gaze.

"I'll quietly walk out of the room in that case and we will never talk about this again, everything will just be normal tomorrow and you don't need to worry that I'll get upset or whatever," Johnny explains, "Is that clear?"

Mark exhales, eyeing up the belt with fascination, "yeah, got it."

“What?” Johnny nods, encouraging him to go on. 

“I can stop you if I don’t like this,” elaborates Mark, and then he sneaks a quick glance at him, “I already know that though, I’m safe.”

The ‘safe’ is almost inaudible, and it makes Johnny feel odd, because he is about to do something a far cry from being safe. But what can he do now? Stop?

"Good. Now, move." He says, pushing Mark down when he just sits there quietly.

"Lie down, head on the pillow," Johnny instructs, a firm hand on Mark's body because he can't help it, "hands up, face the wall, on your side."

Mark arranges himself, twisting his upper body at last to keep Johnny in his view and maybe it's all the yoga and stretching, but the older man doesn't mind.

Appreciates it, even. He likes to be seen, and that's why he hardly ever gets himself off alone, if at all. He prefers saving up; his need for release, his pent up sexual frustration, the way he can just keep going on and on. He enjoys making a show out of it all, to unleash it in front of an interested audience, that's just how he likes it.

"Your shorts, I'll leave them half rolled down." He informs Mark, as he works open his own jeans. He waits for the younger man to give up and look like he has been wanting to. 

Mark can't help it in the end, when the sound of a zipper being dragged down fills up the room. He chokes audibly, his gaze latching on to the way the zipper opens up on top of the large tent the older man is sporting, "It will be difficult for you to move, is that okay with you?"

"Yeah." Mark nods dumbly, licking his lips as Johnny pushes down the jeans, bulge visibly massive in his briefs now, although he knows he can fill out way more with the right attention and enough time. 

His lips twitch out of reflex when Mark's hand clench around nothing. Johnny suspects that he is likely thinking back to the time when he had the chance to take Johnny in his hand, mouthing round his length frantically before he started choking himself on it like he had been starved for weeks.

That feels like something from ages ago now.

He slides closer to Mark, who moves away due to his abruptness for a moment, before he goes rigid when the older man gets his hands on him, digits gliding up to hook in the elastic waist of his shorts. He waits till Mark nods before he roughly pulls it down, almost ripping it in the process.

Mark yelps, eyes bugging out in shock but Johnny doesn't see it, caught up in all the flesh uncovered, pert and curvy, begging to be tormented. 

Johnny bites down on his lip harshly, cock twitching in clear interest.

It's not that he is weak but Mark does have a very attractive figure, a waist some would die for, an ass others would happily die on and he isn't unmoved. He is allowed to be swayed by it if nothing else, he thinks, hands gliding down the prominent swell of Mark's hips and the small of his back to frame the considerable amount of supple, tight flesh between his hands. 

"Pull your knee up some more for me, yeah," he parts Mark's thighs apart, nudging a leg up some more and takes in how the thin fabric pulls taut against the back of his thighs, "c'mon, show me how flexible you are."

His hips stutter unintended, a reaction coerced out of him due to the way the younger man looks like this. 

He eyes the throbbing, scraped mess of a hole, a deep scarlet in shade, shyly peeking at him from between Mark's parted ass cheeks and swears, "Fuck, god what the hell?"

Johnny glares at Mark who hides behind his arms, intentionally placed on his face just for that purpose, "What?" He exclaims, "I— hyung, there wasn't any lube in the washroom, and I— um, I like it — like that?" He finishes, blinking up at him innocently. 

Johnny scoffs, dragging his gaze down to watch closely. He places a thumb on the entrance, and it's throbs, the puffy edges ruddy and pitiful. It's slightly damp, but not slick enough when he dips his thumb in just barely. It makes his cock pulse in sympathy at the sweltering heat he knows he will find inside. 

"Oh, you really get off on torturing yourself, don't you?" He whispers, dragging his thumb to the side just to see the way it expands, closing in right after as it sucks on the tip of his thumb. Mark groans, pressing his arm on top of his mouth.

"Poor little thing,” Johnny murmurs softly, tapping the abused rim in comfort, and then looks up at Mark, "Is this how you want me to treat you? Rub it open forcefully and fill it up?"

He isn't surprised when Mark moves his head up and down, hiding his whole face now.

Johnny scratches the furled skin around the rim, his other hand leaving red trails on the firm swell of his ass that stays just for a few seconds. He kneads it harshly, wondering how hard he can dig in to leave visible impressions for tomorrow without drawing out blood. 

Mark pushes back with a miserable moan, hiding his face away, getting worked up over the bare minimum of rough treatment like an insatiable addict.

"You don't even need me, look what you have done," Johnny chastises him, spanking the abused skin with an audible smack, the tense, trembling flesh captivating him.

"Need you, _you you you_ , hyung—please."

Desperation, he decides, is definitely beautiful on Mark. Johnny would love to know how he will deal with this later. How will the younger man intellectualize these emotions, implementing detachment the way he does, to keep up with the hurricane that is their professional life, Mark sitting right in the center of it recently. 

Will he tell himself at least they didn't have sex for real, will it be stacked up and away as a one night stand? Is he going to wish they had done more, will he think about Johnny when he let's someone else fuck him for real? In this bed, in someone else's bed, or perhaps in some hotel room, cities and oceans away.

"Look at me," Johnny commands, and Mark moves his arms down barely, meeting his eyes, but he keeps the rest of his face hidden from his view, "yeah, keep looking at me, and stay just like this. Don't move."

Will he look at them like this too, so ravenous and wanting, frowning with the ache of wishing to be taken. 

Johnny rises up on his knees and rolls his briefs down, satisfied with how Mark zeroes in on the heaviness of his cock, the girth of it fitting perfectly in the older man's large hand.

"I said _look_ at me." Johnny snaps, thumbing at the wetness settling on top of the engorged head, and Mark whines in protest, dragging his gaze up as if it pains him to do so.

"You gotta keep your voice down too."

He tells Mark, before he climbs over him, placing his knees on the outer sides of Mark's legs. He lifts Mark's hips, hauling him down slightly and Mark gasps, eyes rolling back when he feels the heated, sticky head glide and tug against his entrance, suddenly leaving him worked up and thrashing.

Johnny grips his thigh, hoisting it up even more and presses down on the end of his spine.

"Now, you wanted me to get off, right?" He asks, and Mark nods urgently, his eyes watering and dazed, breath coming out in brief puffs.

"You gotta be still, then. So, so still," he informs Mark, stern and quiet, skimming his hand up Mark's back, shoving his hoodie away to get more warm, bare skin beneath his touch, "act like you're not even in the room."

"I'll pretend your voice is just in my head, and your hole is just my toy to play with and dump my load in, understood?"

Mark goes dead still under him then, studying him quietly from underneath his hooded eyelashes. Johnny can't tell if that is his way of giving consent, or if he's considering his words.

That can be dangerous, he speculates, as he looks for the lube behind him and it makes him frown when the younger stays silent even when he turns around, snapping up the cap of the tiny bottle. 

"Yes or no, you gotta answer me."

Mark glances down, where Johnny is dribbling the clear liquid on the head of his length, lazily gliding a hand up and down on it, thick veins visibly throbbing He nods mechanically, almost absentminded.

Johnny shakes his head with a frown, clucking his tongue, "Mark, use your words when I am asking questions. "

"Yeah." Mark agrees, sounding wrecked, voice gone throaty and thick. 

"Do you need a safe word?" Johnny asks, still hesitant, "It's totally fine if you do."

"No," Mark's hand twitches, as if to remind him that he can just stop Johnny if he wants to, "uh, no need." He breaths out.

"Sure?"

"Man, I feel th— you know, you're like, um, I mean it's fine," Marks clears his throat, hips jerkin when Johnny puts a hand back on him, "I feel very safe, thanks. Johnny, please.. can you like..." He eyes his cock pointedly, not quite staying up due to it's weight.

Mark gets a funnly look on his face then, brows lifting, "Um, wait— Johnny?"

Johnny hums, gripping the base, and dragging his hand up firmly. He fucks into his own grip, abdomen muscles rippling beneath the skin on display, "Yeah?"

"Uh—" Mark chokes, "Fuck— hyung, do you like, um do you need it? A safe word?"

Johnny’s hand stutter, pausing in a curl around the pulsating head. He throws his chin up, jaw clenching tightly as he stares him down, "Why, do you _think_ I need one?"

He asks tersely, while his psyche dips off for an instant, surveying his memories to find a single moment, of anyone who actually dared, who even bothered. 

"You'd know better. So— do you?" 

Johnny sighs, lips twitching, "No, I don't."

"Sure?"

Johnny reaches out in response, and inserts the tip of his glistening, index finger inside Mark, rolling it around. The younger boy nearly arches of the bet, biting down on the sleeve of his hoodie.

"I'm sure," Johnny says, a deadpan look on his face, "Go on, then. _Speak_."

-•-

That's the antimony of who he is and who he isn't, but the charade goes on for so long that suddenly even he can't recognize where the pretense begins and the reality ends. It is fitting, he believes. After all, he was born in the land of soaring highs and darkest of lows, but his place was in the middle, neither here nor there. 

His native tongue isn't his first language, he has two names that sound completely different. From a young age, he constantly makes the choice between picking up a pair of chopsticks or a set of knife and fork. His appearance is distinct in comparison to the kids he grew up and went to school with. He behaves in a way which is not expected or encouraged, when it comes to kids who look like him. It makes his hackles rise when people working in the school system, parents of other kids and just random people go and assume that he is from one of the more known countries in Asia. He finds himself firmly correcting others who are way too old to be so ignorant, from a very young age.

And that is the first, and very valid discovery he makes, back in elementary school. Outside of his home, he fits the physical criteria of someone people have limited expectations from, someone who fits in only certain corners, can take up a few positions but not all of them, is eligible to do this but not that, can make choices but can't have all the options. 

And Johnny announced, very loudly in his own head, that nope. No. Never. It's not happening. 

He is essentially the pride, the happiness of his family. He grew up with so much love, intense and overwhelming, that it made him shy at times. He was dotted on and always treated like a free soul who is allowed to choose, to make his own decisions, to ask questions and most importantly, he was allowed to say no, to disagree and have opinions that went against that of his parents.

Johnny was raised with love, like all kids should be but there was an undercurrent of respect which wasn't about their heritage, nationality or culture. It was specifically an indication of who his parents are as individuals, and he learnt to perceive paternal masculinity as subtle, gentle, kind and calm in the face of every peril and the maternal femininity as fierce, fearless, loyal and confident in everyday life.

Johnny took it all, from both and emulated it till the day he didn't need to and it all became aspects of who he was. And that's why he never shied away from announcing that his role models and heroes are his parents.

Back in school, his classmates snickered as he said it for the first time. But he continued, meeting their gazes. 

"I mean, I could have chosen superheroes, but they don't exist for a reason, it's too unrealistic and then you have people trying to be like them, which results in hospital visits. Historical figures are practically strangers, never met them, don't know how they were in real life. I wouldn't want to make role models out of people I only hear about from others."

He grind, the way his Mom did when she dropped him off to school in the morning, "Parents are definitely the safest bet if you need inspiration. You know your parents well, you learn the most from them too, and they wont make you think you can fly and walk through walls." 

He shrugs and nods at everyone casually. Most of them aren't even looking at him anymore, which is a win for him. If they can't meet your gaze, they are embarrassed, uncomfortable or conceding to you. 

He likes being submitted to, and making others fumble is slowly becoming his favorite hobby. 

Meanwhile, he himself was never the one to get awkward and be sheepish just because he was seen as odd. That could be his brand so he was looking forward to establishing his place as the eccentric one even more. It's a good look on him, he was practically born for it. 

Johnny is the single child of those parents who have instilled into him that he is the sun of their solar system, the best thing to have happened to them. They loved him like the planets revolving around one sole center, and he was it. If he can't be on top of the hierarchy, if he has to be in the middle, then he will not be _just_ that. He will make more of it somehow, will always find himself in the center everywhere, he will find ways to stand out and will be in focus everywhere he is. 

-•-

But just like the sun, he burns with heat and fire in him too. It topples over into a horrible temper, flaring up at any kind of provocation, leaving him with physical pain with how much it takes to curb it all in at times. So even when he takes up various physical activities, releases the physical aggression out during taekwondo and kendo classes, Johnny still loses to the impulse, the need that flares up to just bite people's head off, at least verbally if nothing else. 

It's a very sensitive adjustment, going from elementary to middle school. Suddenly, the teachers aren't coaxing and gentle, they are authoritative, always commanding, hell bent on instilling their dominance. It grates on his nerves. 

He was more likely to say 'yes, sure' when he was convinced that he can also choose 'no, sorry'. When he is approached with that particularly oppressing attitude where he is expected to follow orders blindly, what comes out of his mouth is a blank, 'no' or more rebellious, 'no, I don't think I will' and apparently, that is controversial. 

It eventually leads to that one isolated incident, that ends up in his parents in school. Johnny is wise, for his age. He knows it's all just superficial, the praise for his intelligence and confidence, his parents being told that they have raised a very opinionated, self-sufficient child which all then leads to the, big flaw. 

He would do well to be more obedient, show more respect for the decisions that elders make, it's all for his own good.

-•-

Later, he tells his mom that he won't apologize. He explains, how he was not wrong and how unfair it was. She listens, and that's crucial. To be heard and taken seriously, it matters a lot to him. 

"I know I should've gotten the role. I was the best. I got the loudest cheers, even other teachers clapped for me. The kid she chose was fumbling the lines. Why? Because he _looks_ more like the character?" He is incensed, nose burning. 

And that's nonsense, Johnny is better looking anyhow. He doesn't need blonde hair and green eyes to be handsome. 

His mom runs her fingers through his long hair, fringes framing his face.

"I wasn't even disrespectful, I said with _all_ _due_ _respect_ before saying no to her decision and then I said I don't want to take part in the play. It's not the role I wanted so what's the point." he looks at her then, waiting for the verdict. "Do you think I did wrong?" 

His Mom, who is usually way too cheerful has been very quiet since they made their way back. It makes him nervous. Not because he's scared of being reprimanded, but the thought of her not being on his side, it bothers him, guts clenching whenever he looks at her and she looks like she is far, far away. Not there with him. 

"Mum?" 

"It's never wrong of you to say no," she said, pulling him close, "I wouldn't want you to be forced to do things you don't want to, and you should be able to disagree. It's your right to have opinions." 

He waits for her to continue, because that just can’t be it. She definitely has more to say, but she chooses her words with care. 

"I just think when you do say no or you disagree, you just have to be nicer about it. The world is more accommodating to people who are seen as nice." 

Johnny furrows his brows, because... isn't he? nice? 

Ahe smiles at him, as if reading his mind, "Of course you are the nicest," she coos, "you're the best boy, no one compares to you." 

She pinches his cheeks, and he let's her, for today. 

"But there's a different between being a nice person and acting nicely towards others. Sometimes, people aren't but they can pretend to be."

He listens, because she isn't just his mom, she is also someone who works in a very ruthless field, and has a lot of experience under her belt.

"And then there are people who don't act nice, even though they have a tender heart and they are essentially good people.” She smiles down at him, and there is something secretive about it. He can’t decipher the meaning behind it.

“Especially when you’re grown up and have to be in a professional setting, sometimes you need to put on an effort to appear a certain way. There’s nothing wrong with it. It makes things easier for everyone.”

-•-

Always be nice to others, even if you don't want to be, even if you are having a bad day and you feel like shit. That's how the business works. You sacrifice honesty to move forward sometimes, but it's okay till your intentions are good. 

-•-

"Last week, ah— oh, _fuck_ — we, um—me and Jungwoo, we were watching something."

" _Porn_? You can say it." Johnny drawls, as he inserts another finger in, careful not to go even till the knuckles. He widens them, stretching as far as they'd go against the resistance.

"Well, yeah— " Mark's breathing speeds up, "it was very, um I mean there were some guys so—"

He breaks off, biting at his knuckles when the older man crooks his digits, the forced gape of his hole closing in on them with a loud squelch. 

Johnny sticks his tongue below the bottom row of teeth, mouth suddenly watering.

"It wasn't —well not really like fucking, they just kinda fingered this guy till he like, he just couldn't blow anymore and uh —then, they just spent it all inside him, and like it was so much, it kept running down his ass, because they just put in the— like just the tip so it was a whole mess on the outside, like it was dripping down the table dude."

Johnny grips Mark's hips tightly, and dives down without a warning.

It drags a yelp out of Mark, melting away in a groan, his body thrashing like a wounded animal. Good for him that if Johnny wants to hold someone down, the stay down.

He jabs his tongue inside and sucks before he pulls away with a wet, loud smack. The lube smells like cinnamon and mint, making his nostrils flare. 

"Hyu—"

"What was the name?" Johnny cuts him off, riding the potent, heady feeling of having someone so physically helpless under him. There is perspiration gathering all over his muscles and he is hot under the collar, so he rips the shirt down from his shoulders and takes it off, throwing it behind him. 

He jacks himself off with one hand, and hooks the digits of the other back in the glistening, contracting hole begging to be used, "what did you search up hm? I can think up a few words, Markie and all of them point at you being a nasty little slut."

Mark nods in approval with a loud groan, hips swiveling helplessly.

"It — I think it was something like nerd gets his boy cunt wrecked yeah— I, Hyung—"

"Was he wearing glasses?"

"Um, yeah?"

"Was his ass like yours too?" He circles his fingers around, rubbing his spit and cum on the swollen edges with care. 

".... Well.. it was okay I guess."

Johnny let's his fingers slide out gently, staring at the rosy opening squeezing itself shut without his intrusion.

"Was his little _cunt_ tight and pretty like yours at least?" 

Mark whimpers, adam's apple bobbing. He sucks on his lower lip, tongue slipping out to lick at the seams. He doesn't seem to mind it, rutting against the bed covers. He must be hard by now, for the third time this night. 

He shakes his head, "Nah, don't think so. It wasn't little either. Uhm, not when they were done with it." 

Johnny moves closer, placing both his hands on Mark's ass. He drags the mounds apart with his thumbs, slotting his cock in the tight space and of course they fit perfectly. Mark moans, aggravated due to the frisson, the enormous length scraping against his throbbing entrance.

"So you thought," Johnny snarls, voice dark and menacing from the need stirring up in his guts, "let's recreate this with Johnny. He has the biggest cock around and you probably _heard_ he blows enough load for a few dudes put together, huh?"

Mark arches his spine with a pathetic, needy sound, rocking back mindlessly, "Yeah no, no— ah I didn't. Hyung listen," he pushes back, desperate for more friction, "I actually— I kept thinking 'bout it and fuck. Awe shit, yes. Then, hyung I— 'bout you. A dream."

“Hyung, I had a dream.” Mark says hastily, like it’s a shameful confession. 

That makes Johnny tense, hands digging in the curves he was gripping on to, making Mark grunt from the sting. He carefully drags his gaze up, away from that one place that becomes his priority once he gets going— his cock, and a willing, tight hole, that's all he zeroes in on when the pre-orgasmic itch overpowers his senses.

But this is Mark, so he can't actually ignore him, even if he tried. He’s so horrible at ignoring him that it’s almost a weakness at this point. Perhaps if he could just pretend that Mark was nothing more than a tight, hot piece of ass, life wouldn’t be so complicated. "Yeah? About me?"

He asks, as though it is something new. So Mark has dreams sometimes, nothing new about that.

Mark heaves out a labored breath, nodding quickly. He wipes his mouth, spit clinging onto his lower lip. Just a little more and it will start dripping down. Mark is so turned on, all because of him. He will start drooling over him.

That’s kinda hot and it makes him want to do things.

Johnny could lick it all, he could suckle on those lips and feed him a few digits in there too.

He could also kiss Mark.

They haven't yet. 

Johnny has never initiated a kiss with him, which isn’t that important. They have kissed two times, courtesy of Mark putting in the effort and they never bring about those, partially because of the memories attached to them.

The second time in particular was scarring, because they kinda forgot that Johnny shares his room with Haechan.

"You were, oh it was dark—" Mark starts, voice going wobbly and airy. He concentrates on some spot behind Johnny without blinking, and the older has to smother the urge to twist his head around just to make sure no one is there. Because obviously, no one is there, "I was— I couldn't breathe."

Mark clenched his hole as if the thought of not being able to breathe spurred him on even more to get a dick inside him, and Johnny feels it against the pulsating vein under his cock. He drives up almost unintended, and Mark's eyes gleam, something vivid and reflective blazing through them even though his hips cant to accommodate Johnny. 

"You— I was alone, um— it was itchy, my body— like ants crawling up my skin and it felt like oxygen was gone you know. Then, you… you opened the door."

Mark's gaze centers on him then, pinning him there in an emulation of the way Johnny held him down with his body.

"You came in—" he gasped, as if getting his breath back in his lungs, "and then I could breathe again, you know?'

"You were like asking me what happened," Mark recalls, as if really stuck in his dream, there with him but not really, already floating away in the sweven corners of his mind and severing himself away from reality.

Again, that’s normal. Mark does that quite regularly. There’s nothing weird about it now. 

And even if it was, Johnny never delves too deep. There’s a lot of absurdity that plagues the people in the industry, and having dreams is hardly close to some stuff that goes on out there. 

"I told you, I said, — hyung, I am so _empty_." Mark whispers urgently, pleading. To him, the one who is right here. To the phantasmal version of him locked away in his dream perhaps. Who the fuck really knows. 

It doesn’t matter how indifferent he wants to be, damp, cold ice seeps down Johnny's spine. It raises shivers from his back, curling around his neck, climbing up his face and gradually spreads down the length of his limbs.

There is a tense, mute moment with the unsettled feeling stranded in his peripheral, the wraith-like ghost of his apprehension. He wills himself to shake off the weirdness away. It doesn’t affect his hard-on and he wants to get off, so really whatever. 

He hums casually, plugging a thumb inside Mark and takes in the dusky red blooming a fiery shade when he rolls it around. Mark sighs in relief when Johnny removes his thumb and replaces it with the head of his cock, smacking it down lightly with audible thuds.

"Then?"

"Then— Hyung, uhm—" He squeezes his eyes shut, when the older man pushes the head in lightly, not breaching but there, like a promise, "You said— ah, fuck. Yeah then, you were like asking if you can help— I said, yes, please. Johnny, can you cum in me? Just the— the tip, that's it and th—”

The older man rubs the head around the swollen pucker, leaking against it and Mark bucks up when he feels the sticky heat drenching him, gasping sharply at the sensation.

Johnny has to pull back then, and while he does so he can’t help but imagine what would happen if he wouldn’t. Mark in his impatience and need to get things done, will he shove himself back and down on his cock till he had all of it in him? Will he cry out in pain and clench around the thickness of the base, uselessly attempting to squeeze himself shut because he can’t handle it. Will he realize he physically can’t do it and tug himself away? Most importantly, what would Johnny do in that situation?

Will he just let him go?

"And you— you were like, okay sure. And then,” he takes in labored breaths, muscles tensing whenever he thinks that Johnny would finally breach, just drive it in and let him have it already. 

"Johnny, you— you were, fuck dude— _inside_ me," Mark whines impatiently, "inside, come on, please. Hyung, just _do_ it."

Johnny relents, breaking in slowly, a deep growl leaving his lips at the resistance he meets. It makes the savage hiding in the back of his mind antsy, craving for the satisfaction of smashing his way in until there is nothing left to fill. 

But Mark hasn't done this with anyone else, he shouts in his head, vision blurring when he blinks. He slides in barely, encased in the velvet heat and the younger is now all plugged up prettily just like he wished. It's still a tight fit and he will regret it in the coming days when he carries the sourness around wherever he goes. 

The real struggle starts then, to not do what he usually would. For the life of him, Johnny can't remember the last time he had to hold back like this.

"Then—" Mark groans out, so deep that it halts, slipping into a purr.

Johnny's head snaps up, hair covering his stare and the younger man shudders when their eyes meet, clamping around him. Mark slides his clasped wrists in front of his mouth, peeking at him from behind. Johnny dreads that he looks just as unhinged as he feels when he takes in the way the younger is nibbling down on the leather of his belt, spit glistening on it’s ebony shade.

It doesn't bother him that he's going to leave teeth marks on it, because it makes his blood sing instead, a thrill filling him up to the brim. 

" _Then_?" He prompts, running a hand up and down Mark's thigh, sliding upwards and around to touch the other boy's cock but he protests with vehemence, shaking his head frantically with a whine. Johnny stops, fingers twitching in the air, head inclined in confusion. The younger man pointedly clenches around him instead, and Johnny bites down on his tongue.

His restraint, it's being put through a lot.

Mark flutters his lashes, voice muffled against his arm, "then I kept pushing you— to get you to fuck me _all_ the way in."

Johnny grips himself, fingers tightening on the visibly darker flesh right under the head and squeezes the younger man's hip bone in warning, palm ghosting down damp skin, "Mark—"

He stabs his nails in the thigh pushed up for his convenience, the knee bent and quacking.

"If you do _anything_ dumb," he swears softly, "I'll make you regret it everyday for the rest of your life."

Johnny can fantasize all he wants, but it’s not happening for real. Mark has no business throwing that in his face out of nowhere. 

Mark observes him quietly, trying and failing to be still, but the smile on his face keeps Johnny on the edge, standing on the verge of slipping into something he isn't going to handle too well right now.

"It's a _dream_ , hyung. Not real, remember?"

Johnny swallows the nerves jammed in his throat and it glides down only to get lodged in his gut heavily. He looks down to where they are connected, musky heat emitting in between their bodies leaving everything moist and slippery, sex permeating the air around them. 

He tugs himself away and they both hiss but before Mark can complain, he nudges it back in. The tip is sheated in, snug inside the slippery flesh, and he grindes it around the opening, stretching it with just the head of his cock. He doesn’t push in further. 

Mark sobs silently, bound hands moving to the side so he can hit them against the pillow. The pleasure scorching his insides is almost too intense for it to not be painful but it's still not fast enough to shove him over the edge. He thinks back to how he rubbed himself off to completion twice in the bathroom, and that’s not what he wants now. It's just not enough. 

He pours his words out in desperation, like the hushed prayer he recites everyday, "and you — you did it, even though I didn't ask, and you just plunged all the way in, uhh, so fucking huge, in my guts, ah shit—"

Mark curses, hips lurching when Johnny wrenches his cock out roughly, leaving him to flutter around nothing. The older man clutches the base of his throbbing erection viciously, staring at Mark's entrance closing up, tightening with no weight and girth to keep it unfurled.

" _Just_ a little more, just an inch yeah? Johnny— Hyung," Mark pleads roughly, and maybe Johnny can do that. Just an inch, right? A little more. That's what they had talked about anyway, so it's okay, right?

Johnny dives back in, the squelching of wet flesh filling up the gaps in the cacophony of their rapid, uneven breathing. It feels like he has been working out for hours, and his muscles visibly quiver under the damp skin. 

Mark slaps his hands on his mouth immediately when Johnny jabs in, slipping inside some more and the younger man constricts around him with a frown, cursing under his breath. 

"Hyung, in the dream, I mean. I was like— an inch, please, please—" Mark moans, suckling at he puffy lower lip wetly, and Johnny really can’t tell at this point. He doesn't know if Mark is here, or stuck in his fantasy. If he’s telling him what he wants of if he’s just recounting some vivid wet dream. He doesn't understand, but he still hopes that he gets what Mark isn't saying, what he wants to tell Johnny.

"You told me—" Mark's eyes squeeze shut when Johnny starts a slow, measured pace, a grip on his cock to ward himself off from going any deeper than he should. "Why just that much because, you think I can take more yeah, you said I want it all and then you pressed me down and kept going and I was, it was painful un, fuck—really hurt.”

_Wait, what?_

“And I was screaming, and screaming, so loud my voice was an echo."

Johnny halts, eyes widening in horror, "You—"

"But I couldn't tell you—"

After a prolonged beat of odd silence, Mark moves up on an elbow shakily, stretching his neck to glance down where they were still connected before he meets his gaze, the cimmerian flicker in his eyes compelling Johnny with an almost ethereal force to do something insane. 

"What?" He inquiries loudly, winded up by the constant leaps and turns but still not discerning where this will lead them. 

Mark gnaws on his lips, glaring at Johnny's bare midriff, obviously fretting over his reaction. When the older man makes to pull away, he clamps down on him, refusing to let go without a fight. 

"It felt good, uhm — yes, exactly what I wanted— like it felt _real_ good. The _best_. I was screaming, yeah— hyung, move please," he grunts, humming lightly.

"Because it felt _so_ amazing, Johnny. I wasn't asking just for an inch. I was asking for an extra after you tore me apart on your huge cock, with the whole thing in, you know? I could like feel you in my throat, and I thought—"

Johnny pulls out, nodding slowly even though he’s still baffled and then he keeps plugging the engorged tip back in, again, again and again, as fast as he can, the primitive instinct to fill and own climbing over his senses. He wants it, he really does.

He hasn't felt this kind of rush in a while, with just the thought of it making his dick fill up even more, if that's even possible. He can picture himself wrecking Mark open, tearing him apart and creating a brand new space inside just meant to accommodate him. He would core right in to the depth, seep into the cracks and cavities to the point Mark wouldn't even remember how it felt to not have Johnny crammed inside his body.

After him, no one will ever quite fit in there properly, fill him up just right and it would be like a wound scratched open again and again whenever someone gives it a try and it will be a reminder of him to the younger man. So, Johnny does want it. Badly. _Yes_. 

And yet it’s nothing but a fantasy. Mark isn't the only one capable of having weird sex dreams. 

"I was so _full_ , there was nothing left to fill inside and I thought that if you'd just fuck it in deeper— bet it'd be in my mouth. I could already taste you on my tongue."

 _Are you a mind reader now?_ He wants to scream.

 _You did taste me on your tongu, did you forget already?_ He wants to remind Mark suddenly but he iseps his mouth shut, reluctant to feel more exposed and seen. 

"Just—" Mark hesitates, gaze wavering, a glassy sheen eclipsing the lust smoking in them, "wanted you _everywhere_ , you know? But, I couldn't say it, uh — you know, because I told you I'm okay with whatever you want to give me. "

-•-

Ten might have been right, about the whole life being a relentless cycle, the spiraling path and all that.

Years later, he is neither in the States not in Korea, out somewhere on a company tour with people he has grown watching on TV, from the audience and backstage, he covered their songs and learnt their choreography in practice. And now he is here. 

A few of them had gathered, to drink and suddenly it's not groups and idols, it's just a bunch of tired men and women who have all gone and still, are going through the same harrowing process of reaching a stage in their careers that would finally take away the insecurity of being in this industry, the fear of walking on thin ice knowing it could break any second now, but you have to put on a smile, hide the doubts and uncertainty behind makeup and wait. 

Either it cracks and you drone or you cross the distance, it's pure luck then.

A senior who is also on the board of directors of the company finds him when everyone is just sitting around, chatting, a pleasant state of languor pervading the space.

Johnny sits there and listens to him, one ear still focused on the rest because you would be surprised to know the amount of gossip a group of artists under the same label have to share when they get to gather like this only a few times every year.

Johnny likes to be kept updated. 

"They like to think it's like a family, a group of friends, hah, but when is it ever that simple when you have contracts, money and pride involved. It's more like a society, a community." said the senior.

"Can't blame them though. That's how effective marketing is." 

That intrigues Johnny. He hums, gaze wide and innocent, pinning the other man with interest. _continue, he thinks, give me some insight on your rise to the corporate top._

You don't start with a slave contract and end up being the one with decision making powers in the company you were basically serving from the bottom of the hierarchy, without planning for it and strategizing your moves. You are constantly working towards it. 

The man sees his investment, so he sits up and continues.

"Oh, you know. There are the elites, the best jobs, privileges, then there are the ones at the bottom, struggling and waiting, almost hopeless. Then there's the mid, the commoners. The ones who are the closest to both sides, the safe stop for everyone. They don't have it the best or the worst, the ones who see it all from their place.”

He eyes Johnny with intent, nodding before he goes on. 

“They are the ones who keep the chain connected, keep the communication going. They become the center, quietly. You stay there and suddenly, you are the one keeping it all together, the one with the most influence on decisions, the one whose opinion is widely accepted from both sides, you're running the show, regardless of how it looks from outside."

Johnny sips on his wine, stone faced, his heart about to burst it's way out of the chest with how fast it's throbbing. 

"I see. That's a very interesting take on all of it, hyungnim." He comments, nodding a little with a smile they teach you to use in interviews, steady and neutral. 

"I trust you would find it of use."

The senior replies airily, patting his back before he stumbles away towards the center where a few of the guys are building a human pyramid, for whatever reasons. 

"And you might just be right.”

He whispers to himself, flopping back and resting his head on the couch. 

-•-

"That hyung, he's so scary." 

Johnny stops outside the practice room, hand going still on the handle. The door opens slightly and when he is sure that the five boys inside haven't noticed it, he simply stands there, head twisting to the side to keep an eye on the empty corridor. 

"Who?" asks Mark, still babyish and careful in his inflictions, a far cry from the casual fratboy energy he throws around when he uses his other language.

No one says anything, and it's like an answer in itself. 

"Ah, Youg— Johnny hyung?" 

Johnny smirks, threading a hand through his hair. 

"He walks in a room, smiles and suddenly everyone is on edge." 

"Even his smile sometimes, it is so... it's twisted. Even some older hyungs don't mess with him." 

"Well," says Mark, and he imagines a tiny frown on his face that makes him look like an angry, unimpressed puppy. 

“You have it wrong,” drawls out Donghyuck before the older boy could continue, “he’s just American. They're all like that apparently so he can't help it.” 

Mark barks out a brittle, surprised laugh before he continues.

"I mean.. he's intimidating— maybe. But older seniors all say he is adorable, I don't know. It could just be the age factor." 

"There are hyungs his age and a few older ones too, so it's just him." 

"Well, it's a good thing then, right?" bless Mark, and his protective little heart. 

There is nothing to defend, as far as Johnny is concerned, but he is still surprised, arching his eyebrows at the defensive tone.

The other three trainees break out with hasty protests, babbling all over each other. 

"What?"

"Why is it a good thing? Imagine being in a group with him."

"No, I am getting chills already."

Mark scoffs, "Really, hyung is actually very nice. So what if he is intimidating, good for us if we end up in the same group."

Mark's voice is casual, but can still make oit the tightness behind it. 

"If he is a little scary, and he is on my— on our side, can be nice, supportive and he is so funny? But others are still intimidated by him. Then I would feel. Safe. ha ha, no one would mess with us. Isn't that a good thing?" Mark finishes, tone all fake cheery by the end.

“Wow, wait you actually made sense there, hyung,” quips Donghyuck, “that’s right, to be honest. If I have Johnny hyung on my side, I'll be above all of you.”

“Uh, right.” 

“Anyway,” Donghyuck announces loudly, “it's not like you all are debuting anytime soon so why are you worried about him? Just leave him to me and Mark hyung.” 

Johnny cups his mouth, and slowly backs away, breaking into a run as he turns round the corridor. He strides inside the washroom, banging the door close behind him and then he stares at himself in the mirror. 

There's a feeling bubbling inside him, rising up and escaping his throat involuntarily and before he knows it, he’s giggling loudly with short pauses in between. The more he looks at himself, the more he laughs and his whole frame shakes with it.

The door opens behind him a minute later, and Ten walks in, his steps cautious. He surveys Johnny, who’s wiping the tears that escape from the sides of his eyes. The look on his face just sets Johnny off again. 

“What are you so worked up about?” asks Ten, coming closer, wrapping his arms around the older boy's waist, “share with me too, baby.”

“Tell me, Tennie. Do I make you feel safe?”

He grins at him in the mirror, before he turns around and Ten holds him by the back of his neck instead, hanging off him as he stares up, gaze narrowed in slits. 

“Depends,” the younger boy smirks, always matching up to him without any questions, “on which setting we are in and what we are up to.” 

“How are you feeling right now?” 

“Depends on what you will do to me next.” 

Someone kicks the door open a few minutes later, mutters a bland, ‘right, of course' which suspiciously sounds like Jaehyun and then shuts it back on them. 

-•-

His hand skids down the contours, the edges and grooves of Mark's lower body and he kneads the flesh harshly. His hole gushes out sticky flecks of lube, spit and precum with every push and Johnny can only imagine the agony he will be carrying around just in a few hours when lust isn't numbing the pain. Everywhere he goes, phantom imprints of the older man barely inside him will be a reminder of some wet dream he had, the dream itself a vestige of what Johnny refuses to give him.

 _Not yet_ , he had said. 

What's the point of it now, when he is an inch deep into something he is hesitant to explore in depth, all due to reasons related to his own set of moral compass which is malfunctioning at the moment. 

But still, he can't. If Mark wants to get dicked down, and has some fantasies he wants to play out along with it, Johnny isn't the person. Not when Mark has never done any of this before. 

Perhaps, years later when none of it would be new. When Mark won't come to him just because he has himself convinced that Johnny would never push him beyond what he can handle, would never really hurt him.

He feels warm at times, to have so much trust placed in him. But he doesn't trust himself with this. 

He claws at Mark's ass, his nails leaving deep crescent mars behind and slaps him on one cheek, making him convulse violently. 

"I won't." 

"Um, I know." 

"We are not— Mark, I wouldn't."

"Hyung... I _know_ ," Mark murmurs, but he rocks his hips, demanding attention. He groans thickly when Johnny delivers a few more tight slaps on the stinging skin, thick fingerprints almost searing, making his toes curl. He can imagine how they would turn purple, aching and very present on him in the morning. 

“Spill it in me, come on.” Mark implores, breath stuttering and laboured. 

“You're close yeah? it's throbbing like crazy— Johnny, _give_ it to me." He sighs, wiping the sweat off his temple.

"One day," Johnny bites out, teeth clenching when he estimates how long he needs to keep Mark on his cock before it becomes impossible for him to clench, unable to squeeze himself shut. This is obviously not enough, but he wants to see that. Maybe, one day he will, “after you've fucked your way through your circle of admirers and crushes, taken all the dicks you can and some more to the point that you’re bored of it.”

He pulls out and slides in, stopping right where he should. That's enough for now, even as he stupidly offers things he probably shouldn't because his mouth is running ahead of him in heat of the moment. 

“Even after that, if you still want it,” he says, watching Mark's pupils dilate, eyes blown wide, “want _me_ , my cock. Tell me.” 

Mark releases a strangled, needy purr that makes him ache, ready to burst out and make a mess. It might be the hottest thing that has ever come out of his mouth right next to the deep, quiet tone that he had used when he asked Johnny to fuck him all those weeks ago, early in the morning out of no fucking where. Johnny knows that it will haunt him at the most absurd moments from now on. 

"Find me," Johnny growls, and his hands shake, "I'll tie your hands and feet as far away as they'd go from your body. I'll strap you down. Then I'll properly open you up for my cock. I'll do it right and you'll get what you want."

Johnny spreads him, veins in his arms popping out from the force he exerts on gripping his ass cheeks and fuck, he wishes he could take pictures right now.

"I'll _ruin_ you, dive in balls deep and break you apart on my dick like you're frothing for. Trust me, when I leave your cute, little hole gaping wide open after a few days of pounding your ass raw in every possible position I can twist your body in," he pulls out, grinding the head around the wrecked rim violently as he works a hand on his length, "it's gonna look _just_ like a cunt and you'll be dripping my load for hours. You're gonna keep your thighs splayed open so I can watch, I like watching you know?”

He sounds insane, he thinks and Mark is trying hard not to breathe at all. 

“We can take videos, so you can get rid off all that shitty porn you waste your time on. We can watch the ones I make of you getting stuffed full of your favorite cock in the world, while you sit on it and keep it warm, okay?"

He is so, so close to blowing and Mark clenches around him knowingly, chanting his consent in an ending slew of _yes, johnny_ and _please_. Tears spill out of his eyes, and he wipes them away quickly with his sleeves. He drags the back of his hand against his puffy lips, and there's saliva on his face. 

Johnny would tell him that's disgusting if he wasn't itching to bend down and run his tongue all across his face. 

"Then I will hook your thighs around me and press you down on your back,” He informs Mark, voice sliding down an octave as he gets caught up in his own fantasy, “I'll nail you to the bed on my cock, beneath me and it will be _so_ painful. You'll be sour, sloppy and stretched open. You'll probably hate it, _hate_ me. But you won't be able to push me away, Mark”

Mark shivers violently, nodding at him with fervor as he lets out a muffled sob. His fingers move, hands lifting up longingly to grab at him. He wants to pull Johnny closer, hold his face and claw at his shoulders but they can't in this position. 

“You’d try pushing me away because you are so tired of having a cock jammed in your guts, spilling cum in you again and again till you gush it all out like an open faucet.” Johnny palms his bloated balls, heavy gaze trained on Mark's ass, “But I’ll fuck you harder than everyone else who took you before me, till you scream so much that you'll lose your voice. You'll cry and claw at me, I'll watch you crying but I won't stop fucking you."

Mark slowly blinks up at him, the rawest of emotions cracked open on his face. He looks like he is in love. 

"You won't be able to stop me. I'll screw you till you forget how it feels to be you without having my cock lodged inside your body."

“Yeah,” Mark agrees, just the way he had agreed to going out for dinner, the way he says yes to everything Johnny suggests.

"And _then_ I'll kiss you, and who knows, maybe you will kiss me back, right?"

“Okay, yeah," Mark groans, nodding like a doll on strings, " _Yes_. Yes I, um. All of that. Everything. _Yes_. Yes to all of it. _Yes. Yes. Yes, please._

Johnny studies him for a moment in silence, “ _Yeah_? You want that, _baby_?”

The younger man whimpers, hiding his face away, “Hyung, _yes_. I want that. I want it so bad. Please hyung. I— you’re not kidding? You won't say it was a joke, later?”

Johnny quirks an eyebrow up, heart jumping up in his throat at how young and earnest Mark sounds, so small and lost behind all of this. It's like the last thing on earth he should be this way about. 

"You promise?" Mark whispers quietly, suddenly frowning up at him in suspicion, "You — _dude_ you gotta sign an agreement though, you can't take this back now. Especially the, the _crying_ thing like, yeah."

Maybe they both are just really sick in their heads, at least that's a comfort.

"Just come to me, or call me. It's up to you. It can be a joke," Johnny offers, rolling his eyes in exasperation, "or I can make your dreams come true. Your call."

"Oh,” Mark nods, still unconvinced by the looks of it, “you better. Still, you gotta sign the paper, we need it in written. Now, can you like— fuck, how long can you hold back, come on dude—"

-•-

His Father isn't the one to show his affection with words, it's always little actions, undivided attention to their needs and just silently making sure that his loved ones are comfortable, happy and enjoying themselves. His love is silent and comforting, Johnny looks up to it, learns from it a lot. 

But then, Fathers always know somehow. They can't be blind to it out of love, instead they acknowledge it because they want you to know that you are loved despite everything, even with everything going on inside you. 

"Just remember your heart with all of it too." 

He patted Johnny's head in farewell, back when they were on tour. 

"You would know one day, that just accelerates your growth. Gives substance to ambitions, a strong base to the power you achieve." 

Johnny doesn't know how to break it to him that he remembers his heart just fine. And that's the actual issue. He believes that he just has too much heart. There’s so much of it that he can fit many people inside it, and he can't give all of it to a single recipient because the weight of it would overwhelm them.

-•-

He'd pull out right now, just when every muscle in his body goes taut, all other sensations numbing except the way his cock pulses against his own fingers, the head throbbing inside the tight, sweltering heat desperate to swallow him all the way inside. He feels his high approaching, roaring against his chest, in the hot, whitening flash in front of his eyes. It's so bright that everything goes dark for an ephemeral second.

It's ripped out of him forcefully with all breaks slammed on abruptly, dragged right out of the back of his navel where it all gathers, leaving him a quacking mess above the boy staring up at him as if he hasn't seen a man falling over the edge before. 

Because Johnny knows he has and he doesn’t buy it. 

He wants to make it memorable, wants to pull out right when his balls tighten and just let it all out, make a mess all over Mark's thread-bare hoodie, on the visible full curve of his abused ass.

He is itching to turn him slightly, to properly put him on his back, and arrange himself in a way so he could spill some all over the strained arcs of Mark's neck, on the sharp lines of his face and the rosy, bitten lips. In a different world, an easier one where he did everything he wanted to do without giving a fuck about consequences, he would have marched right out to bring his polaroid camera just so he can pretend that he was capturing art.

He would have imagined the shine reflected in those eyes to be moonlight, and he'd say that it was gleaming, silver stardust sprinkled all across the bare skin beneath him. He could still do it, find his phone and snap away a few shots so he can dump them into that one, encrypted folder on his laptop that takes up way more storage space than it should. But he won't, not when he isn't even sure why they are doing this.

This wasn’t necessary. This was him being weak and Mark somehow knowing it at least subconsciously. He might believe that Johnny would deny him things but eventually he always relents. If Mark pushes enough, that is. 

Not that he minds it, considering the embarrassing amount of precum he has spilled in barely half an hour. But he had thought of something more— _complete_. With Mark. Maybe later in future, when he would be sure this wasn’t just a hoax. Maybe even a few years later. Isn't that funny though, because hates waiting. But for some reason, he really wanted to wait. Still wants to. 

He wants to see how far this can go, and if it eventually fizzles out with no immediate sexual incentive like these type of feelings usually do. Because if it doesn't, that would be something. Something worth protecting and preserving in the long run.

Maybe he is delusional, way too unrealistic about it. But something about crossing this line with Mark is daunting and the thought of this transforming into a real thing, beyond just a few sexual enouters, he isn't completely against it. He kinda looks forward to it. 

How very school school of him, he concludes.

It's not like he is the type to back out of some easy, mindless orgasms with someone, even better if it's someone familiar.

But to be fair to himself, he can't have or except the same things from every person in his life. Not when he isn’t even the same person that he used to be back when things got more complicated and less platonic with other people who he keeps close to himself. 

With Mark, he would have done all of this the way that seemed fit to him, and it wouldn't end like this. But then, it wouldn't have started like this either. 

So he holds Mark's trembling body down, by the jut of his exposed hipbone and a palm pressed to his sensitive lower back, and then just let's himself go with a low groan, muscles straining with the pure effort of having to hold himself back. All the patience he has accumulated over the years used up like nothing. It is a hardship to not snap and plow all the way in, fuck right up into the fluttering, slippery heat gripping on to a single inch of him like a lifeline.

Mark wants him. Wants his cock at least. Wants to be fucked, apparently by him in particular. He is squeezing so hard around the head of his dick, Johnny thinks that he can't even pull out without hurting them both. He can either stay right here like this till they both come down from the adrenalin pumping in their veins or Johnny could say fuck it, and shove his way in some more. Mark wants it, and he might not after getting a taste of it. For now at least, Johnny wants to give him everything he wants.

But Mark also has something to prove, so Johnny won't get in the way. 

" _Fuck_ , there you go."

He grunts, watching the glistening redness throbbing around the tip of his spent cock, he spurts a few more times, working a hand lazily on his length.

"I haven't gotten off in a few weeks, that's a lot huh?" he asks, not really expecting an answer.

And he doesn't get one. Instead, there's a renewed ripple of tremors going through Mark's body as he sobs, voice croaky and hoarse. The younger moves away from him, and yet his hips arch back up, not ready to let him slip out of the sloppy, pouring mess.

The realization makes his hips stutter, and he finds himself thrown off-kilter all over again.

Mark just came untouched, quivering like he will vibrate out of existence just like this. 

Johnny's softening cock twitches violently, and Mark keens a little too loud, "Shut up. Mark, the others are still here."

He runs a hand up and down the younger man's arched spine, squeezes the back of his thigh and waits for the tremors to die down before he slowly pulls out, "Shh, it's okay. I'm just pulling out, Mark. Be quiet, baby."

He soothes, hooded gaze still fixed down below. It's filthy, the way Mark's entrance looks so tender and inviting, thick white cum spilling out as he backs away. For a moment, he stops and takes in the painfully taut stretch around the widest part of his cockhead and thinks about slipping right back in. 

But he is stronger than his baser impulses until truly provoked and he always feels like a new person after he comes down from a carnal high.

So he slips out reluctantly, and files away the loud pop, the squelching of heated flesh against flesh in the back of his head for later inspection. 

“Why is it so hard,” Mark rasps, groaning right after the way he does when his bones ache after a day of grueling practice, “It's not like this with others, dude. We're just complicating it I think.”

Johnny follows the slow trickling of his release that gushes out of Mark's body, and distractedly moves around to find that towel he had seen. It is Mark's obviously, he uses it all the time.

Johnny wipes himself with it, and tucks himself away.

“It’s others, not us. Not better or worse, but it's different, Mark,” he tries to explain, and wonders who all these others are. If it also includes the people Mark has had something with, or the ones he is in the process of creating more history with. 

“Different people, different me. You said yourself, remember? We aren’t who we were before. I might have done things differently with everyone too, if I was the person I am today. Who knows.”

Mark pulls his hands out of the belt hastily when Johnny brings the towel down on his ass. He wrenches his shorts up quickly and almost jumps off the bed.

Johnny eyes his own shirt then, thinking he has overstayed his welcome. 

“You didn't ask,” Mark starts, rubbing the red marks on his wrist.

“What?” Johnny ches him, hawk like gaze surveying the other boy from top to bottom.

“How my dream ended.” Mark explains, not even letting the other man respond before he goes on, “You were— you kept going and going, um, yeah and I just. I took it all. I let you — because I wanted it so badly it just wasn’t enough.” 

Mark meets his gaze, a hand slowly sliding down his own abdomen, “I just felt so hungry— and you filled me up till there was nothing left to fill. Then...you _tried_ to pull away.”

Mark claws the place below his navel, “But— I didn’t let you go. I wrapped myself around you, yanked you in me and I just — I just sucked you in, inside me till there was nothing left of you.”

Mark doesn't look so small like this, with the light hitting his back and illuminating his edges, almost looming over him with Johnny still sitting down on the bed. 

This is, for some irrational reason, making his dick twitch in interest even though he thinks that should creep him out at least a little.

“And then I woke up, Johnny—” Mark isn't finished yet, “I woke up, right here on this bed and man, I'd never in my life had such an intense orgasm. It was so, _so_ drawn out and just kept _going_.” 

_Wait_

“But you know what's strange though?”

Mark came just minutes ago in front of his , and he definitely didn't clean himself. His shorts though, they are totally dry. Not even a little bit of stain, not a single wet spot. 

“I had a dry orgasm.”

Johnny splutters, dropping back on the bed with a loud thud, head hitting the pillow. He garbels out something unintelligent and then shuts his mouth.

Suddenly, he feels a touch away from getting hard again. 

But there is something else niggling at that back of his mind.

Dreams, yes. Dreams. Mark has those. 

Johnny swallows and covers his eyes with an elbow, thinking about that night under the moonlight, a drunk Mark sitting on his lap. 

“Dude, I wanna like — I was trying to see if I can have it again you know? For real, like the whole week. Yo, I think I can only have those with you. Maybe that’s why I had that dream.” 

“Right.” Johnny says, turning away from him to and curling in a ball. 

“Um, stay? I’ll just come back from the washroom? Okay, Johnny? _Stay_.” 

Johnny grunts an affirmation but refuses to look at Mark. He needs a minute to himself. 

-•-

Everything is built from stardust, mostly.

The stars burn and burn, they self-destruct, and then they become dust, spreading all over the space; the universes, the galaxies, all the worlds, every dimension and solar system, the planets, the clouds, the seas and soil, the greens and blues, the rocks and every organism; everything that was, is and will be. Everything around us— the land we stand on, the air we inhale, the blood in our veins, the calcium in our bones, the carbon in our souls, every organ, every cell and every atom is made up of the elements that can be found conserved in these twinkling tiny things, as we see it from here — as they used to be, and we could be staring up at a bright blip of light that has already disintegrated eons ago, sprinkled around the space we are breathing in, or can even be found in the nail of your left finger, the skin on your back, the layers of tissues around your heart. 

_Are you listening, Johnny?_ We are literally stars. We even live like stars, always growing and self-destructing. We shed away thousands of dead cells every hour throughout our lives because they don't live for longer than like a decade maybe; the substance that makes up our body is naturally renewed every few years with the abundance of building blocks of life existing around us thanks to the stars, and we still continue to exist, and evolve— we kind of look the same because we generate new cells and tissues to make up for the dying ones, so we are all just a pattern in this transient loop of constant change.

So the person you were before, in past, it's truly fading away technically. You think you were there in the past, and you were in your conscience, but the rest of it, well mostly the rest of it, is truly gone an— 

"Are you," Johnny interrupts, swiping his tongue across his drying lower lips,"changing your major to philosophy because, wow, aren't you so passionate? That's some research you've been doing there, bud." 

Mark lets out distressed, tiny squeaks, rubbing his head against Johnny's bicep. He really is drunk, having chugged down alcohol generously during the mini party they held for him, now that he is about to turn twenty. It’s a huge deal for Mark, getting rid of that teen from his age.

"No Johnny— _what_? Bro, _don't_ interrupt me," he whines, petulant and slurring his words. "you gotta listen carefully, man. I'm — I was trying to make a _point_ here." 

"Is this, wait— you're not going through some religious crisis are you, Mark?"

"The _fuck_ , dude. No. Honestly, _stop_ distracting me. Take me seriously for like a second. I'm telling you something." 

"I mean, I _am_ taking you seriously, considering how you do sound serious, and surprisingly eloquent too, for how much you drank earlier." 

Mark snorts, pulling away to hook his chin on Johnny's shoulder, staring up at him with heavy scrutiny, and there was this alertness present in the shining orbs that had Johnny on the edge suddenly.

If he moved a little closer, he would be able to make out his own reflection in those eyes, a little fazed, but still intrigued by the sudden turn this interaction was taking. He was very present. Very much there. On the balcony, sitting on the floor under the moonlight that seems to shine a little harder out of nowhere; because it's making him slightly dazed, how clearly he can see the younger boy, his cheekbones glowing cherry red against the hazy, bluish shimmer of the luminescence engulfing everything around them.

"Johnny." he felt the hot breath, so, so close to his lips. "I had a dream." 

Johnny blinked, but stayed completely still, "yeah?"

"You were there," and there it is, the sudden nothingness in Mark's eyes, so vacant even though he is so near, there is no way he can see anything else but Johnny in front of him. 

Johnny is afraid, not of the lack of space in between their bodies, but the distance he sees, so clearly reflected on Mark's face. It's appalling, how someone can be seas and time zones away, and you feel so close to them, carrying their scent in your memories, a catalogue of all their laughs locked away safely, echoing in an empty room in the corner of your mind. But then someone could be sitting half in your lap, holding you so close, too close and it's like he exists in another galaxy, situated in some universe on a different plain from yours. 

"Okay, I am glad I haunt your dreams." He tries to move away, ready to get up. But then their are fingers pawing on his face, holding him with a lot of force than you would expect from someone who is is supposedly drunk. 

"You were a _star_ , hyung. You— are one, you were shining. Not like, light shining but the, sparkly shining you know? So, so _bright_ I couldn't even look at you, it was so hard. You were, like a supernova, a furnace and it was so painful to get close, Johnny. I— I think I was gonna _burn_ dude."

Mark turns, climbing on top of his thighs, still holding his face in clammy fingers. It felt ice cold, his touch against Johnny's cheeks, thumbs pulling at the sharp edges of his lips.

Johnny's fingers jerk, hesitant as they come up, warring between staying on the ground to keep himself steady and holding Mark's waist to keep him up. 

"Oh."

Mark's staring up at him even now, somehow still so small. "And then you just— _boom_." he trails off, eyes glimmering for a hot second as if he is looking back on a real memory.

"You just— uh, blew up. All over the place, just sparkling dust and you were reaching _all_ over, to everyone and everything." Mark frowns, eyes focusing back on Johnny's face. 

"I— I just, had to.. you, you were just slipping away, Johnny. I got so worried and, um. I tried to catch you, yeah? But, I think ... you were _everywhere_ , and everyone and everything had some of you, but I was running all over the place and I, I—"

Mark blinked, gulping.

"I just, whatever I could... Icollected it, I mean you. Collected, _uh_ , you? And it wasn't all, all of you? You know what I mean right, dude? That's impossible ha ha. It kept slipping away from my hands. But the stardust, um the you I was able to have, I thought this is more than enough? I mean, because the amount I had, it was already so, so pretty and warm, so uh— I thought that I'll keep it safe. I'll protect it. It's not the whole of you, but it's a part of you. It's still you, Johnny." 

He leans in, out of breath from all the rambling, and his eyes are heavy and drooping. 

Johnny's heart is trying to claw it's way out of his throat. 

"Johnny?" Mark asks, his breath reeks of beer and spices, caressing Johnny's lips. If he leans in, Johnny screams in his own head, just a little. 

"Do you... you get it, Hyung?" Mark moves in closer, his head tilting. 

It tickles his throat, the messy strands of Mark's hair when he leans down instead, hiding his face in the space between Johnny's neck and shoulder, snuggling in with a sigh. 

"Johnny?"

"Yeah," Johnny swallows the ball of emotion lodged in the cavity of his throat. "I get it." He can't bring himself to cough, to get rid of how strange his voice comes out. He is afraid to disturb. this. whatever. 

"And the other thing?" Mark mumbles, moist lips slightly parted, the heat from in between is sending goosebumps down Johnny's spine. 

"What other thing?" Johnny gives up, as he lifts up a hand, finally letting it snake around Mark's waist. His palm and fingers almost cover the whole expanse of Mark's lower back. 

He has to tell himself how horrible of an idea it would be to just dig his fingers in and squeeze, to pull the warm, yielding body closer to his own. 

"We are still who we were, but not really." Mark starts, and Johnny can tell how close he is to clocking out, right there in his lap. 

"So _poetic_ , Mark Lee."

Mark jerks his head and whines, tip of his nose pressed against Johnny's throat. "Johnny, I— no, _listen_. I am Mark. I am who I have always been. But I am also _not_ , not anymore." Mark whispers, scratching the skin on Johnny's elbow absentmindedly, so cautious and earnest because he wants to be heard, to be understood. "I am not who I was in past, it was Mark, um— me, but I am not him, not that Mark anymore."

Mark sighs, as if disappointed but Johnny doesn't know the reason. Perhaps, it's at himself or it's Johnny, or it's just the situation. 

"It's so _hard_. Why it gotta be so difficult, dude?" He huffed out, petulant. 

Johnny pats his back, and opens his eyes. It's only then that he notes how he has no idea when he closed them in the first place.

"But you get it though, right? You, you understand?" Mark's breath starts evening out, "It's so hard." He trails off, body going all lax and heavy. 

"Yeah." Johnny agrees, and sits there for a while, staring up at the sky. He waits for the storm wrecking havoc inside him to abate. If he has to hold Mark throughout it, that's a downside he is willing to accept for a while. 

-•-

After a while he hooks his arm around the younger man's shoulder and the back of his knees, lifting him up. He turns back, stopping dead when he sees Doyoung leaning against the door, gaze roaming all over them with the very recognizable, speculative sheen. 

"How long have you been standing there?" 

"You wouldn't want to know." 

He grips Mark closer to himself, feeling a tad stupid just after because it's literally just Doyoung. _Doyoung_. 

He shakes his head, "Whatever." 

"You need help?"

"Do I look like I need help?" Johnny could pick up three of Marks without breaking a sweat. 

"Yes, you _look_ like you could use a lot of help, hyung." Doyoung says as Johnny passes by. 

_Don't engage_ , Johnny tells himself. Don't do it. It's a trap. 

-•-

In hindsight, Mark is right. Always is, about important things. It is hard, Johnny is perfectly aware of it.

It's so fucking hard, somehow it has always been when it should be the easiest part of all this, this whole idol business, this life they are living. Any genuine, real aspect of this, that they can keep to and for themselves shouldn't be so complicated.

Especially the dynamics they all share, tied down together, growing and bonding with the knowledge that they all have to share the same fate, so either they have to keep each other afloat or else, eventually they all are going to drown.

What they have isn't blood ties and familial relations, it isn't as simple as friendship but it's not entirely heartless, diplomatic working relationship either. Perhaps it is a little bit of it all, out of necessity and personal benefit for sure, but it's there. There is so much raw emotions, a lot of heart in this, and it's pretty inconvenient at times. 

So it is hard, it's very fucking difficult. And it leaves Johnny with his conscience always being suffocated, wrapped up in the tendrils of raw irritation at himself and everyone else in his near vicinity. 

Like right now, as he sits between Taeyong and Taeil in the living room of his childhood home, house. He hadn't thought how warped it would leave him in the head, returning back, with a bunch of people who have been living in his personal space for years, way more than his family and friends ever did. 

Now they are trying to find him, him who used to be, only left to be remembered from time to time in captured pictures of a life that has escaped his grasp, and hid mind for the most part.

It didn't used to be like this. 

It shouldn't be like this, with him sneaking glances at Mark sitting right in front of him on the floor, right under the window. The sky outside appears as if it is projecting Mark's mood, dark and gloomy, so silent that it gets on his nerves. 

Mark is sitting close to the rest of them with a guitar in his hand, head bent low and a cap hiding his face from Johnny's view. They are sitting in a loose circle around the table with his pictures placed on the table and Johnny can't concentrate. To make up for the lack of words, Mark fills the place with mellow, soft music.

It sounds something like, I'm sad, confused, make it better. Make it go away. 

Johnny tells the rest about his high school shenanigans instead and if Mark acts like he isn't interested, then Johnny can also pretend that it's because he has already told him a lot about it so it's understandable. 

-•- 

He did tell Mark a lot about his time back at home, without consciously meaning to. It's not like he thinks, oh I want to tell Mark all these mundane, minute details about his life back in Northbrook. But he let's out bits and pieces from time to time, feeling nostalgic or not really feeling anything, because sometimes you have all these memories stored away in your head without any emotions attached to them. 

To no one's surprise Mark picks up on all kinds of anecdotes and mindless details, storing it all away safely. He remembers things that Johnny has no memory of even sharing with him or anyone in the last few years. 

Mark is physically vibrating with anticipation and excitement when they finally end up in Johnny's nice little suburban house, thin eyebrows almost touching his hairline as his gaze jumps from one corner to another like a child on his first field trip in some historically significant museum. He has little quips ready on the tip of his tongue for every conversation, constantly running commentary like a good, obedient student. One would think Mark is fondly looking back on his own memories, displaying the kind of softness and warmth that everyone must be expecting from Johnny in this moment. 

But Johnny has no clue, he can't decide how he should feel. The anxiety is eating away at him, clawing it's way up from his guts and taking over his head.

Shouldn't he feel like a proud teacher? He has taught Mark so, so well, hasn't he? The little overachiever, the most excellent student anyone could ask for. He is doing so well that Johnny's Mother gets that look on her face, again and again, and again every time Mark runs off his mouth. She darts quick glances towards Johnny whenever it happens, pleasantly surprised a few times but then it slowly transforms into this inquisitive, questioning gaze when Mark wouldn't stop. 

Johnny's knees are going numb with a very, very horrible feeling that something will go wrong.

In any other situation, he would attempt to stir the direction of this train wreck, manipulate it in a certain way so that it would do the least damage.

But Johnny isn't a fool, doesn't overestimate the stretch of his own reach. He knows when he can't curb a narrative, and when things are so out of his control, there's no point in even trying to stop it.

So he physically removes himself out of the situation and goes to find his Dad. 

-•-

Obviously that doesn't make the whole mess disappear because he comes back to Haechan and Yuta laughing over the watermelons meticulously cut in cubes, asking his mom if Johnny told her how Mark likes to inhale the fruit like oxygen. 

"Oh, I didn't know!" his mom exclaims, patting Mark's head, "I will cut some more for later." Mark grins, a little embarrassed and then it comes, the cat jumping out of the bag, the skeletons falling out of the cupboard, the moment that Johnny would have preferred to erase out of existence. 

"Honestly, Mark knows so much about Johnny, I was surprised. All these years, he never said much about about you, so I didn't realize you two were _this_ close."

She smiles at Mark, whose mouth is frozen in a stretch appearing less and less like a smile as seconds tic by, eyebrows drooping in confusion as she continues, "I am happy you're staying back with Doyoung, tell me more about yourself later. I already know so much about him and Taeyong, Jaehyun, also Yuta, Taeil and oh, Ten. Ah, I am really sad he isn't here. Johnny used to say he might debut with Ten, I hope you all get to see him still?"

The silence that follows last for three whole seconds, because Johnny counts and then it's chaos.

Haechan's loud, shocked laugh hurts his ears. Doyoung and Taeyong tend to his Mother, wide, charming smiles in place as they start talking at the same time and she is easily distracted.

Taeil and Yuta converse loudly about how delicious the kimchi stew is. Jaehyun pulls Mark towards himself, and Jungwoo stuffs his open mouth with rice. "Chew your food, Mark." Jaehyun says, dimples out in full force.

Mark coughs, and Jaehyun is there to swiftly hand him a glass of water right away, not losing the pleasant expression on his face for a second.

Johnny places the platter of steak on the table and picks up a plate for himself. He turns to look at Haechan for a second, who swallows his next giggle fit and promptly shuts up. He raises two fingers up in salute, nodding at him with a dramatic sigh. 

Johnny avoids Mark's gaze, which is easy enough, considering how Mark refuses to acknowledge him too.

A first, for them. Mark can never ignore Johnny, not even when he's upset, not even when Johnny is upset, which means he is on the edge of tipping off into the chasm of his own anger.

People usually back off then, but Mark isn't built like that. He avoids him, runs off to clear his head and then reaches out without caring about his pride. He appreciates it, because it's not something Johnny himself can do in personal situations and he knows Mark wears his pride like a war armor, so to be able to discard it just to deal with Johnny, that takes a lot of psychological strength. 

And heart.

But right now Mark's mind has gone into shutdown mode, and his heart might not even be there, which Johnny can relate with. 

It's fine, he assures himself. 

That's why they say there's a first time for everything. 

-•-

It's not like they haven't had fights, silly arguments over stupid shit going in the deeper, unexplored depths of the ocean they aren't ready to dive into just yet, especially if it's together. 

The last time Johnny was truly close to blowing up, it was in Chile but before it could happen, Mark took a flight back with the kids, saying that Haechan must be feeling lonely and wine is not his thing anyway. 

The annoyance recedes a few hours later after he gets to know he is gone, when he wakes up to no Mark with his head held up high, chin drawn in to show how much he doesn't give a shit about Johnny's prissy mood drop. Good, he thinks viciously. He wasn't in the right state of mind to look at his stupid face and put up with his attitude anyway. It's perfect, totally fine with him. 

He spends the rest of the day carrying gloom in his surrounding, and smartly avoids the cameras recording them during their tour in the winery. He would ruin all the footage otherwise, no one wants to see him grounding his teeth and giving no reaction to anything, it doesn't make for good content. 

He spends the whole tour taking pictures with a lot of intensity instead, a thin shield to keep a slight distance between him and his turbulent thoughts from others. 

Haechan texts him, when he is sipping on wine, not even paying attention to the taste of it. 

**what happened?**

It makes him snort, and he shakes his head with a twisted parody of a smile.

**take care of yourself.**

He texts back, not actually answering the question. 

Later, when they all are getting ready to leave for the airport, he gets another text but he doesn't bother with a reply. 

**Yo when u come back, let’s go out and talk, okay dude?**

They do end up going out though. So Mark wins, as always. 

-•-

He finds Mark leaning on the window of his bedroom later, after everyone is done with the food and Mark had obediently finished his cup of watermelon cubes, ever so determined in the face of obvious chores. He inhaled it like air and then he had excused himself, saying he needs to use the washroom. 

Johnny took in the warm, if too loud and hyper atmosphere of the home, his childhood house which doesn't feel like his home anymore. But still, it's a home, a comfortable place which gets to witness the merging of his two lives right in front of his eyes. 

And so he backs away, let's it thrive and strengthen as he makes his way up the stairs. He passes by the washroom, finding it empty and his feet drag him towards the place that holds so much of him, who he used to be and the parts he had to discard along the way in the last few years. 

And there he was, elbows on top of the window-sill, staring up at the dull, grey clouds, still, so still he might as well not be breathing at all, a ghost haunting his bedroom. 

The déjà-vu washed over him, like the cold wind after a downpour, or a turbulent hailstorm he had woken up to in this very room, the last time he was here. 

"You know," he says, his tone low, closer to a chilly edge, like the memories swirling in his head. He takes in the sudden jerk of Mark's head, who almost but not quite turns around, stopping himself at the very last second. "I woke up to a hailstorm one sunday morning, in my last year of high school." The last year of his stay in this house, he doesn't need to say.

Johnny acutely traces Mark's fingers, scratching the white paint of the sill incessantly. He makes his way over, no sound of footsteps to be heard and halts a few inches away, staring at the side of Mark's face from over his shoulder. He leans in, bending his waist to bring their heads on the same level.

"I was standing right here." He whispers.

The light, furry hair strands below the younger man's ear and the back of his neck stand up from the shudder that passes through him and he steps back, startling when his shoulders crash on to Johnny's chest. 

"And I was thinking," Johnny pushes forward, trapping Mark against the window. Mark gives a feeble attempt to move, to pull away and probably run off like always, to cool his head, he'd say, _to clear my mind dude but anyway so, whatever it's not a big deal yeah? ha-ha._

"I was thinking what Mark must be doing, now? Is he still in the practice room, skipping sleep for days because he has weird dreams that keep him distracted, not eating properly because he's down with perpetual anxiety and home sickness, which makes him throw up everything he eats and hinders his precious training time?" 

The tremors increase with every second that passes. Mark sucks in deep breaths, as if he could inhale all the oxygen pouring in from the open window if he just tried hard enough.

So typical of him. 

"I was thinking he must be feeling lonely, so desperate to belong, to be accepted and have friends, a group, a team of his own and yet.." Johnny grazed his fingers against the painfully tight fist being rubbed against the side jamb, watched the way it froze, "he can't stop feeling inadequate, like he doesn't fit and keeps trying so hard to accommodate everyone."

"Yeah, okay." Mark nods, voice betraying the rigid lines of his face. 

Everyone always mentioned Johnny, when it came to keeping a straight face but even he could never pull off the vacant, casual expression the way Mark did.

 _I just imagine I am on stage,_ Mark had admitted to him once, after spending weeks ignoring Haechan due to one of their bimonthly fights that got extended due to hormones, Johnny had theorized, though he never asked. 

He and Haechan had made a pact just a few weeks into their first meeting, that they won't shove their noses into each other's businesses, especially if it was Mark related. He had even offered assistance in torturing Mark, unless it was about something serious. Haechan never mentioned anything about that one argument they had, so Johnny chose not to pry either. 

"Hyung," says Mark, so restrained, but it couldn't hide the way his frame shook against Johnny, "Uh, so I don't thi—”

"Sorry, I forgot to tell you, that you were staying over. Gotta film some content. Hope you don't mind." 

Mark snaps his mouth shut, biting his lips harshly.

"Forgot.." He grinds out, the sarcasm finally pouring out after the rope of his patience snaps, "okayyy.. ha ha, guess what? Well I forgot to tell you, but I am not feel too well since this morning yeah, I think I'm gonna head out, hyung."

He moves around and clutches at Johnny's shirt, attempting to free himself and slip away. 

Johnny drapes an arm around his waist, pulling him close and backing him up against the wall. "Don't worry, stay here. I'll make you feel better."

Mark glares up, face reddening.

"Why, _hyung_ — can't you ask Taeyong hyung, or Jaehyun hyung, hm? I'm sure no one would mind, now move."

Johnny grabs his chin and stares him down, studying the gleam in his eyes oscillating between anger and turmoil, and ah, there it is, that something else in between both that they don't ever bring up. 

"Don't ever talk to me like that, _dongsaeng_ ," the older man hisses, low and right in his face, "not while you're calling me hyung. Scratch that, don't even _call_ me hyung with that tone. Understood?" 

Mark gulps audibly, lashes fluttering but he stays silent.

"You're staying." Johnny tells him, "and you're going to be on your best behavior, like the good boy that you are."

He declared, a hand tightening on the sharp hip bone digging into his palm. Mark snaps his eyes shut then, chest heaving.

He nods, "Okay. Got it. Um— Can I go?" 

Johnny pulls away then, and suddenly all the air pours in, light brightens the space, warmth is back in his blood and he smiles, sweet, and nice.

"Sure, Markie. Go, go don't let the others wait, Man." 

Mark doesn't move at first, gaping at him with parted lips, blinking in bemusement. 

He snorts, and Johnny hears the derision, the anger in it. The younger boy sidesteps him and walks away. 

Johnny lets his smile drop, glaring out of the window now. But he frowns when he doesn't hear the sound of the door opening. He turns his head around and sees Mark frozen, staring at the wall on the other side of the room instead. 

Mark's eyes are fixated on the pictures there, old, grainy polaroids stuck in a cluster or more specifically, on the right edge corner. 

Johnny curses in his head, mind reeling back to a grimy, almost dream-like memory. He had placed it there, the last time he was here. 

"Mark."

The boy jumps, head snapping back to stare at Johnny. He looks so, so confused, his eyebrows constantly moving up and down, as if he can't decide if he should be surprised or frown at him. 

"Fix your face," he tells the younger boy, who blinks at him in silence, "and don't act weird around my Mom, dude." 

Mark nods, soft and meek out of nowhere and the defiant, irritated demeanor has disappeared in thin air.

"Yeah." Mark mumbles, shooting another quick look at the wall before he is shuffling out of the door quietly. 

-•-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> •The first [moodboard](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EgCc5-iVoAArCgI?format=jpg&name=large) I had made for this fic. johnny really looks right out of mark's dream and it happened by accident.
> 
> •this was basically mark's scorpio mars + saggitarius lilith rising and johnny's leo mars+ gemini lilith reacting to it.  
> mark's an 11 life path and his natal chart is like spirituality on steroids and metaphysical realization dialled up to max i'll be shocked if he doesn't have psychic/supernatural experiences on some level.

**Author's Note:**

> NOLA - asiahn  
> Remember Me - UMI
> 
> [my cc ♡](https://curiouscat.me/genq13)


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